Dark Lord's equal
by Carrow Alecto
Summary: Non-epilogue compliant. After 10 year abroad, Harry returns in Britain because he cannot avoid his home any more, not as boy-who-lived, but as a Dark Lord's equal. Just random idea.
1. Chapter 1

_2007._

27 years old Harry Potter was sitting in the kitchen of his home, Grimmauld place 12, London. Once scrawny and underfed kid was no more and on his place there was handsome, well-defined man. He was said to be rash, shy and somewhat awkward, but that kid was no more present. Man that sat in his armchair could only be described as confident and powerful, calm and deadly. His brilliant green eyes he got from his mother also changed; one that look close enough could see the difference in the corner of those eyes where just a glint of bloody, dark red crept and gave the new edge to them. Still, his eyes were unfocused and distant as he spin strange, little stone in his fingers. That stone was believed to be missing, but Harry knew better. As he played with it he couldn't help, but think about his long time foe, Lord Voldemort, and because it was in its nature, the stone called the imprint of Tom Marvolo Riddle forward.

"Potter." Said the ghost-like figure. Harry quickly realized that figure in front of him wasn't the Voldemort he remembered, but the man that existed before. Dark-haired, lean and handsome, just like Harry remembered from Chamber of secrets. Strangely, the voice of his ex foe wasn't filled with malice nor hate, but idly curiosity.

"Hello, Tom." Harry finally replied, surprised that he neither had ill feelings toward Tom. The two observed each other in silence, seemingly eager to catch every detail of anothers appearance.

"I've been watching you." Tom broke silence at least. "All those years abroad...seeking for more, but finding nothing." He finished his observation. Harry sighed loudly.

"I couldn't stay. I died for them hoping they were worth it, but after your demise nothing really changed so I left." Harry didn't know what he expected, but he knew that soft, humorless laugh wasn't one of those things.

"Such is the nature of humans. I learned that long time ago, that ignorance and cowardice are easier to nurture than trying to stand up for something you believe in." There was no pride nor judgement in his voice, only resignation.

"You tried." Harry softly exclaimed and received short nod as his answer. He thought a bit more about all those years abroad, knowledge he acquired, things he learnt, places he visited and plans he subconsciously made about the future and suddenly realized ugly truth.

"We aren't so different after all." He whispered and saw that Tom smirked a little.

"Dark Lord's equal, it said." Harry felt the burden of those words once again, he understood them clearly after all those years and finally, he realized, that he always knew they were true deep in his heart. There was no point in denying it now.

"I think I will apply for empty spot in Hogwarts, Tom." He said eventually.

"And I will be watching you, Harry Potter." Said Tom before vanishing.

Harry sat alone for a long time after that eye-opening conversation thinking about his future. It was hard to concentrate as his magic happily sang songs about victory, dark magic was nagging him to release his anger upon masses while light magic ensured him that it was necessary for good of everyone. He sat there, alone, and thought about it till dawn and just as the sun rose up, Harry Potter's hope for mankind and future has risen once again. He never notice ancient elf sneaking in the shadows of the room muttering quietly for himself.

"Master is going to be great lord, and restore the most Ancient and Noble house of Black. Kreacher is very happy to have such a great master."

_August, 1997._

**KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT APPOINTED AS NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC**

_In recent turbulence of events in wizardring world, Kingsley Shacklebolt(35) was appointed as a new minister of magic. He had long and successful career as an auror and was member of infamous Order of the Phoenix, led by ex Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Unexpected turn of events was highly supported by public and we, here in Daily Prophet, wish him all the best. May he guide us honestly and just._

_November, 1997._

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC STILL IN CRUMBLES**

_After the chaos left by the Dark Lord, ministry still have trouble to organize its employees and departments. Seeing as many of previous heads are missing or dead, there is huge need of competent personnel to fill the hole left by death eaters and their leader. "There are simply not enough funds to recreate ministry, Hogwarts and other magical places in short time. We were able to create 5-years plan that will hopefully bring Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and other destroyed districts to the level we once enjoyed, and perhaps even more. Be patient." -Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of magic._

_February, 1998._

**GOBLIN NATION REFUSES TO COOPERATE WITH MINISTRY**

_After many tries for peaceful solution by our side, the goblins remain stubborn and are refusing to help in recreating magical world. Today, it seems, that peace is no more existing because the gates of Gingotts were closed this morning and no wizard is permitted to approach goblin soil, except Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. What business he have with goblins we weren't able to find out, but we are confident that he and minister will find another solution that will bring peace between our races once again._

_May,_ 1998.

**BOY-WHO-LIVED ABANDONED US?**

_After shouting match that occurred in ministry of magic this very morning, Harry Potter(17) decided to leave our coasts and seek a better life elsewhere. Witnesses say that Potter is unhappy with curse that minister of magic chose and refused to offer any help in situation created by Goblins. His parting words were: "So you want me to be a ******* lapdog to you again? **** you and your ministry. Haven't I given enough for you people." Unfortunate turn of event was followed by request to international portkey. "He just lost himself in war. He lost too much and isn't able to cope very good. He deserved his vacation so lay off!" - Hermione Granger, close friend of Harry Potter._

_March, 1999._

**CRUSADE AGAINST 'DARK' CONTINUES**

_After the peaceful solutions presented to goblins was once again refused, ministry decided to revoke all rights they once had. Others dark creatures haven't fared any better and this morning's new bill by Department for regulation and control of magical creatures declares all non-human beings as dangerous. All non-humans are to report in their office for registration and permanent tracking charm that will allow aurors to regulate them and decrease the danger they present to our world. Both British giants, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and Grawp, his half- brother were seen this morning in said office, but werewolves and centaurs refused to show up. Appropriate answer from ministry will follow. "War showed us that those beasts cannot be trusted. We've done bill to help not only us, but them too. They may not understand the danger they present, but I assure you that the threat is real. We cannot move forward without assuring that the past won't happen again." - Amos Diggory, head of __Department for regulation and control of magical creatures. "Potter was right to run away, we're digging a whole we won't be able to avoid in the future." - Draco Malfoy, lord of Wizengamot. "Grawp and me are happy in the forest, at Hogwarts. We did what was asked from us." - Rubeus Hagrid, first to sign registration._

_December, 1999._

**TWO FRONT WAR?**

_Dark creatures, in a move that confirms the fear of ministry, showed their true colors. 5 wizards that were sent to negotiate with goblins never returned and are believed to be held captive by goblins. On the other hand, the numbers of werewolf attacks is increasing every new month. Two teams of aurors were employed to hunt them down using necessary force to do so. "It is bloody work, but those beast are not able to reason with us so we have no choice." - John Dawlish, auror. "This is not why I joined aurors, this is not what we fought for." - Ronald Weasley, ex auror and close friend of Harry Potter._

_May, 2000._

**ONCE A HERO, ALWAYS A HERO?**

_After three years without any words of whereabouts of Harry Potter he was spotted in Russia where he took care of their biggest problem; vampire covens that grew bolder with years. Russian news reported our hero, Harry Potter, agreed to cooperate with their ministry to deal with a problem of raising numbers of vampires and was very successful in his mission. They even awarded him with 'drug gosudarstva' which is equivalent of Order of the Merlin. We hope that he will return home and continue with his heroic deeds._

_April, 2001._

**ICW SHOCKING DECISION?**

_On today's brief meeting of International Confederation of Wizards decided that Magical Britain is no longer fit to represent their laws and ideas and therefore chose to cast our community out of their jurisdiction. Otherwise, it means great cut in funds, magical items, potion ingredients... Said decision made a great number of prominent businessmen to vacate our coasts and search their fortune abroad. "This is not final nor forever, but their nation must focus on own problems and we think this is a best way to show them how critical their situation is. We are more than happy to accept them back once their standard is promising and within ideals of our ancestors. Because of the recent war they strayed away, but we are more than confident that they will find their path once again and rejoin us in prosperity." - ICW spokesman "We listened their reasons for such a decision and found them lacking, but that doesn't mean we will stop to advance our country in every possible way. Do not fear, dear citizens, our future looks brighter than ever." Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of magic._

_August, 2007._

Harry Potter stood in front of Hogwarts gates waiting for an answer. He couldn't help, but notice great improvement of wards and security. However, the castle itself still showed some of its injuries that it endured in last battle versus Voldemort. Astronomy tower still wasn't recreated to what it once was, some walls around the castle had small, but noticeable holes. He knew it was hard to fix stones that old and imbued with so much magic, but still, it was shame to see the best school in the world in such a state. Finally the gate opened and showed Hogwarts' old caretaker, Argus Filch. He and his cat were completely same as he remembered, only with few grays more.

"Mr Potter." He said in his usual distasteful tone." Headmistress is expecting you." Harry just sneered and follow old squib to the office. Once inside, he could see that _everything_ looked exactly the same, only it wasn't. Not to him. He could still see his old friends bleeding on those grounds and fighting for their freedom. He saw Fenrir Greyback feasting on Lavander, he saw Fred's lifeless body with a trace of his last smile, he saw Tonks and Remus, together even in death and felt a sting of pain when he remembered his godson, Teddy, but he knew that Andromeda understood and supported his decision to leave. He remembered when she told him that she would support him no matter what and that made him bit warmer inside. Yes, he will do this for her, and Teddy, and Ron, and Hermione...

"Pride." Old caretaker said the password for the office. "Here we are Mr Potter." Harry barely acknowledged him with a faint nod and went to see his old Head of the house. Once he stepped inside the office, first thing he realized was how much it changed. While Dumbledore was Headmaster it was filled with all kind of strange devices and instruments that were always humming or producing some other kind of noise. Besides that, Fawkes was always here, Dumbledore's phoenix, singing beautifully or simply sleeping. Headmistress McGonagal seemed to prefer order and neatness. Her desk was full of parchments and letters that were folded in some kind of order Harry did not understood. Warmness that once filled this office was gone.

"Mr Potter, it is nice to see you." She said, but Harry could sense she wasn't fully truthful. He could feel her eyes observing every inch of him and not liking what she found. He could feel light pull of wards marking him as a danger or something similar. Harry said nothing while he took his seat an observed her back. She, just like the old caretaker, didn't change much. Older, sure, but equally stern-looking and stiff. Finally, he let out his breath and replied.

"You too, professor, I'm glad to see familiar face after all this time."

"We will wait for professor Flitwick before we start if that is fine with you." She said and he couldn't blame her for it. He knew his presence was something entirely else these days so he nodded and started searching for one certain portrait.

"Sure, professor, the more the merrier." He smiled, charming smile out of book from Tom Marvolo Riddle to get your way with professors. Once he locked his eyes with his previous mentor and grandfather figure in his life he stopped paying any attention to McGonagall and stood up to have one, last chat with a painting.

"My, Mr Potter, you have certainly grown up." It said jovially, but Harry saw his eyes didn't share the sentiment. He saw grim understanding in those blue eyes, he saw sadness, he saw resignation.

"I had to as you know. I hope your next adventure is as versatile as one we shared was." He said with genuine smile. Sure, Dumbledore was old manipulator and git, but he always did what he thought was best for everyone and they both respected and loved each other. They shared same pain of losing a family, they shared same taint of a soul that dark magic causes and they both felt the pain of sacrifices given so that others could live. They knew the burden of knowledge and leadership better than any wizard alive so they didn't have to exchange words, just by looking at each other they could say more than with thousand words. They looked each other, like that, for a short time before professor Flitwick showed up and interrupted them. Harry once again took his place.

"Professor, nice to see you again." He said more genuinely than to McGonagall.

"Oh, please, you can call me Filius now. 10 years have passed since you were a student." Harry eagerly took his hand and shook it.

"Alright then, Filius. Now that we are all here can we begin?" Harry asked.

"Of course, Mr Potter, so you are here to fill the vacancy in our staff?" She started bluntly. She was always like that, true Gryffindor, but Harry learned along the way that Slytherin traits are not to be dismissed easily.

"Indeed, as soon as I heard that post of professor of defense against the dark arts was free, I headed toward Britain. I once heard that teaching is most rewarding of all professions so I decided to check that for myself. I mean I'm still proud of DADA OWLs that members of DA accomplished." He said with a wider smile, confident smile for every occasion by Tom. He noticed grim face McGonagall made and raised eyebrow from Filius. Headmistress cleared her throat.

"After all those adventures all over the world you choose to settle down in Hogwarts?" She asked in disbelief, a fake one, Harry knew. Neville warned him it would be like this. He told him that their old head of a house grew more and more sad as she realized he is nothing like his parents, as she read about his deeds abroad, as she saw his picture in Daily Prophet. Portraits were carefully listening this seemingly normal conversation, but even them could feel the tension in the air, heavy and depressing, one that longed for old days when everything was simpler. They all sensed same deja vu and remembered young, but brilliant Slytherin that came with a same request.

"They are just stories that will die with me if I don't do something with all knowledge I acquired along the way, professor. My whole life was...is about defending others from the dark arts. It is only natural to help new, younger minds in their education. After all, they are our future. I have the experience, I have the knowledge and I'm confident that I have skills to pass it on. You won't find more qualified person around, nor one more versed about dark arts." He finished his speech feeling good. All of them knew he said nothing but truth and yet she wasn't convinced.

"Very well versed in dark arts..." She trailed silently. " Here we approach the problem. The subject is defense against dark arts and I'm not sure if your approach to the subject is the best one. After all, we all know who you dealt with those vampires in Russia, or rising dark lord problem in Brazil." She finally vocalized her thoughts, looking him straight in the eyes, stubborn and proud, and not giving an inch away. True Gryffinor indeed. Harry casually leaned back in his chair, the top of Elder wand visible for a moment under his sleeve, he let his magic away and instantly everyone in the office could feel it radiating from him as if saying 'I am Harry Potter and who are you to deny me?'. He sighed dramatically.

"If you don't want me to teach you can just say so, you know." He saw her lip trembled for the moment and knew that the decision was bothering her. Public, board of governments and ministry are surely pressuring her to give him job, but her own fears and doubts, absurdly powerful young man in front of her and her experience were screaming 'no'. Filius, too, had similar doubts, but he believed in Harry, the only son of his favorite student ever. Silence prolonged just enough to make whole situation a bit awkward. Professor McGonagall then opted for a same tactic as Dumbledore all those years ago.

"And am I to believe that Malfoy, Longbottom, Bones and Weasley are having a drink in Hog's head only to wish you luck?" Harry actually laughed out loud and she wasn't impressed as far as he could see, but he couldn't help himself.

"We haven't see each others in a long time, professor, and we agreed to catch on later."Her shoulders dropped a bit, and Harry knew it was over. He got a job.

"Very well, Mr Potter. Expect my owl in few days." Harry, pleased with himself, stood up, shook their hands once again and went to share happy news with his friends. Minerva and Filius remained in silence as she took out full bottle of firewhiskey and poured two generous doses of strong alcoholic beverage.

"What have I done?" She finally whispered.

"You made a choice, a bad one over the worse one and there is nothing we can do about it. Maybe he is the force we need to become what we once were." Ge responded, but headmistress was in her own thoughts.

"Dark Lord's equal, indeed." She muttered too quietly to be heard by Filius.

_September, 2001._

**WIZENGAMOT DISSOLVED**

_In shocking decision of minister of magic and all department heads, the legal body that was foundation of magical Britain was dissolved. Current heads of families that had the privilege of title of 'lord' can no longer call themselves that way. "Every man and woman is equal, and therefore any title that suggests otherwise is no longer available to acquire by anyone. Wizengamot, of course, did a great job leading this country in the past, but those times are over and we have to adapt to the current climate. This is only the beginning in our path toward equality and prosperity." - Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of magic. "I mean, I'm not sure what's even going on anymore. Should we call Bloody Baron from Hogwarts just bloody? This is absurd, and only the beginning of incoming tyranny." - Theodore Nott, ex lord. "Any so called move towards equality is a lie, my own daughter-in-law was forced to leave country because of said 'equality'." - Arthur Weasley, the head of the office for the misuse of muggle artefacts_

_January, 2002._

**2000 WIZARDS AND WITCHES IN PROTEST IN DIAGON ALLEY**

_Solid part of our community could be found this afternoon marching through Diagon alley and demanding their gold back. When it was confirmed that no dialogue would be executed between ministry and goblins, the former promised compensating losses citizens suffered. However, according to protesters, they never received their gold and are currently broke. Without the possibility to emigrate in any part of ICW they found themselves in tough stop. When aurors approached the mass spells were fired and more than 100 were injured in riot that followed. Great part of Diagon destroyed. Radio station called for another protest in Knocturn Alley next week and the prognosis is that even more people would attend. "The situation is firmly under our control!" - Gawain Robards, head auror. "This spitting onto our faces cannot continue! We won't stop until we have basics for living, we simply won't!" - Adrian Pucey, the protester._

_July, 2002._

**HERO STRIKES AGAIN**

_Uprising of new Brazilian Dark Lord that was feared all over Americas was brutally stopped by our very known hero, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. When it was clear that authorities didn't have a situation under their control they didn't have a choice, but to accept Potter's help who happened to be visiting at the moment. In quick, efficient purges that soon followed more than 200 dark wizards and witches were disposed of in a brutal manner which, their papers report, were necessary to put stop on advancing dark forces. "They say brutally killed, they say he shouldn't use that amount of dark magic, but he did the job and everyone is happy. If he had to use fire against fire you won't hear us complaining. If they want to behave like rabid dogs, then he had every right to put them down in a manner he did. After all, that is what you do when they go rabid." - Anonymous witness._

_June, 2003._

**THE END OF REBELLION**

_Uneasiness between wizards and goblins finally at its end. In a brief, but brutal battle between two species the casualties were great on both sides and it was decided that current state of affairs cannot continue. In a briefing that went for 5 hours a new treaty was drafted and the door of the bank is once again opened for all citizens. The details of treaty are not currently known, but it is belief of society that they will be known by the end of the week. "The minister and their king, Ragnok were able to unravel their differences and reach a dialogue that was productive. I believe the final treaty is going to be beneficial for both sides which will, in conclusion, lead us closer to accomplishing goals set up by ministry of magic. Nothing can stop us now!" - Wilhemina Pye, undersecretary for the minister of magic. "This is only delaying the inevitable. Tensions will rise again and we will have same problems as before. Mark my words!" -Bartholomeo Davis, historian._

_March, 2004._

**MINISTER'S SON BITTEN BY WEREWOLF!**

_Michael Shacklebolt(5) was playing in his backyard later than usual when he suffered an attack that left him infected with lycanthropy. The response from the ministry came swiftly in a form of brutal justice. Werewolf responsible for the vicious attack was quickly convicted with a death as a penalty. Said penalty wasn't issued for more than 200 years. In the meeting that followed after the trial ministry reached its final decision - to wipe out unnatural infection once and for all. Teams of auror were sent early in the morning to carry out their mission. "We tried to reason with them, we tried to protect them with our laws, we tried to limit them on their own territory, but they wouldn't bulge. Even if we knew that darkness is in their souls we still tried to do what is right, and yet, they ignore our help. No point to pretend anymore, they finally showed their true colors and we will respond accordingly. Celebrate, my fellow wizards and witches. Celebrate because at this time tomorrow, no werewolf will still breath on our island. - Robert Proudfoot, senior auror in charge of the mission._

_November, 2004._

**END OF ERA OF DARK CREATURES**

_After unfortunate business with werewolves and hunts that followed, the existence of dark creatures is reaching its end. As of this day, the giants no longer exist. The last one to be executed was Grawp, the only giant that fought on the side of Harry Potter in the battle of Hogwarts. Surprisngly, the execution was well visited with more than 200 attendants who expressed their grief. "This is barbaric. With one swipe of an ax, thousands of years of history were destroyed. With one swipe of an ax, this little hope i had for humanity is gone." - Hermione Granger, activist for non-human beings rights. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. His heart was on right place, you bastards, he saved your sorry ***** from death eaters and this is how you paid him back? It is not him who is monster, but you." - Rubeus Hagrid. "Grawp was a friend and you killed him. We are poorer because of it, but at least the land is richer. Don't ever delude yourself that this is over. You will hear from us." Anonymous attender._

_October, 2005._

**THE USABLE MAGIC ACT**

_In the new act by the ministry of magic, hundreds of spells have been forbidden for common uses. There were many argues about which spells are safe, but eventually ministry came with new, approved list of spells that are safe to use by anyone with a wand. Said list will be printed in tomorrows daily prophet and it will be sent to Hogwarts so professors can remove spells from curriculum and books from library that are not in according of it. "It is hard to predict exact nature of magic. It is hard to foresee corruptive nature of dark magic so there was no easy way to classify known spells, but we did our best to do so. Any and every magic is dangerous, but this is the final list of spells that won't taint body, mind nor soul. We chose this course of action to ensure safety of our people, to prevent any future dark wizards and to create environment we can all enjoy without any fear." - Unspeakable._

_December, 2006._

**SAFETY** **FIRST**

_Because of increased number of muggleborns in last 5 years, ministry is going step further to enforce the Statue of Secrecy. To protect our existence from muggles every single one of them who is aware of magic is required to take unbreakable vow(made possible by unspeakables) not to reveal anything they have seen or heard on this side of the border. Furthermore, the squibs, because they have much more contact with muggles than wizards and withes will be obliviated and sent in their world for good. "Statue of Secrecy is our most important law and taking into account latest prognosis I see no other options, but to act. At first, it might seem cruel, but the benefits we are about to reap in long-time period are undeniable." Kingsley Shacklebolt, ministry of magic. "It is simple, they are burden for the ministry which it cannot afford because of all the crises we went through. It is time to put ourselves on first place and that is exactly what are we about to do. We will carry our guilt forever, but that is our burden to carry. We have no regrets." - Amos Diggory, minister's main adviser._

_September, 2007._

Harry sat down on the throne. The same throne in Malfoy manor that Voldemort used 10 years ago. It was so beautifully ironical that Harry had to employ every single ounce of occlumency not to crack a laugh. He wasn't sure why they chose this place, but it only seemed right now, when he looked objectively at it. Everyone gathered and Harry was proud to call every single person in the room a friend. If Sorting Hat could see them right now it would cry out of joy: they finally found that unity it advised all those years ago. They were all looking up at him; Gryffindors: Ron, Hermione, George and Seamus, Hufflepuffs: Susan, Hannah and Ernie, Ravenclaws: Luna, Cho, Marrieta and Terry and Slytherins: Adrian Pucey, Draco, Theo Nott and even Pansy. He silently cleared his throat. All of the unfulfilled potential he saw in front of himself was the saddest thing he ever encountered and at that moment he knew that it won't stay that way. Even if it was the last thing he did in his life.

"Thank you all for coming. I cannot express the joy I felt when I saw all of you once again and now I wish I never left, but I did. I am ashamed to call myself a Gryffindor right now because of my cowardly act 10 years ago. I left because I couldn't watch my dear old Britain, for whom I have fought my whole life, crumbling down into something awful, something unrecognizable. I went all around to world seeking place to settle down, place to forget and grieve in peace, but was unable to. Whole time while I was away I felt unrest that I couldn't stop, like open wound that could never heal and this year, finally, I realized what it represented." He knew he was bubbling, but couldn't stop himself. All those people brought back emotions he thought he would never feel again and yet one look at his old classmates was enough to bring it all back. He was glad to see even gits like Malfoy. But, right now it wasn't time for feelings. It was time for action, fro them to do something more, something they will be proud of so he collected his thoughts and continued. "We were all part of war when we were mere children. Not because we wanted to, but because we were dragged into it by our parents. We were young and naive, without better options so we fought. And we lost. That bloody war had no winner. All what remained behind was destroyed society, ruined families and bunch of scared children who were forced to grow too fast. I realized, somewhere along the path, that I was nothing more but a pawn my entire life. Pawn to people to whom I should've said fuck off." He chuckled darkly, raising up. He released his magic to flow freely around the room, but unlikely others, his friends could feel warmness, protection and love. They could feel his eternal love he had for them." But I say no more. No more should we dance to the wishes of those who never did a one honest thing for us. We were there to see fall of Albus Dumbledore. We were there to see fall of Lord Voldemort. We were there, alone, against all armies Dark Lord could assemble and we emerged victorious. Nothing, my friends, cannot stop us while we are united so I ask you are we going to let them dictate us how to live or will we unite once again and took what is our, the whole FUCKING world." As he said last words forcefully, his magic acted accordingly and pushed back his friends who one by one has fallen down on their knees. Harry sat down looking the event in front of him with a feeling of accomplishment and proud.

"Rise, my friends, for today we party and catch up, but tomorrow? Tomorrow we start our path forward, and we won't stop until the victory is ours."

Dark and light magic both found their place in the parts of Harry Potter's soul and were in constant, eternal fight for dominance, but on that day while he sat on throne that once belonged to Voldemort they settled down. Two parts of his soul could finally rest in acceptance of each other. After all they had new enemies to fight. Neither can live while the other survives.

**Note: I just fixed few minor mistakes I found. I know there are probably more, but anyway... I hope you all enjoyed it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I know I said this is one shot, but I decided that I will be adding some more. It won't happen often, but I plan to add one or two chapters per the date mentioned in the first chapter. Someone made a review that this wasn't a story so I will try to make it into one.**

_August 1997._

The Grimmauld place, number 12 was as grim as ever, Harry thought, as he observed the interior of dining room.

There was no source of natural light, it was rather provided by hanging light fixtures. The room was occupied by a long, wooden table, surrounded by chairs made of matching wood. It featured a massive dresser holding the Black family crest and dusty china.

"Kreacher!" he called into the empty room, but old elf appeared immediately, bowing deeply and murmuring, 'Master Called.'

"Hey Kreacher," he started carefully, hoping that the elf won't make any problems after he fought with them in the last battle. "Can you, umm, make this place a bit...brighter? And maybe bring me something to eat?"

"Kreacher can, master. Kreacher will start immediately," he responded, popping away and Harry sat on one of the dusty chairs.

He wished he could just conjure a comfy armchair like Dumbledore did when they attended disciplinary hearing a few years ago, but he couldn't. He simply wasn't that good wizard. He didn't even finish his education at Hogwarts and, to be truthful, the only field he was good in was the defense against dark arts.

His train of thoughts, however, went south once he started to think about Hogwarts. The pictures of Dumbledore, Remus, Colic Creevy, Fred, and many others started to mercilessly invade his mind and there was nothing he could do to stop it so he cried.

As his tears flew down his face, ironically, he thought of Severus Snape and his silver tears that explained so much. How he was just a lamb raised for a slaughter, to die for whole magical community. In the end, he did so, but it still made him angry, the thought that he had no real control over his life until now.

However, he did the impossible once again, and he survived. For the first time in his life, he had a chance to live, to have a family, to love and to be loved.

He wished he could block everything like Snape could. 'Control your emotions!' Snape yelled at him in his 5th year. "Discipline your mind!'

But he couldn't. He tried to reconcile with Ginny, but that only brought more pain as he was forced to watch Weasleys suffering and grieving. He tried to visit his godson, but the only thing he visited was a place of memories and more pain so Andromeda shooed him away. He tried to hang out with his best friends, but because of their relationship he constantly felt like he didn't belong with them so he retreated away, in his own house, left to him by Sirius, his godfather.

Kreacher popped back, holding a meal of kidney-and-meat pie that smelled deliciously and swiftly served it to Harry, who attacked it with gusto, happy to have any sort of distraction from his thoughts.

However, when he finished half of it, another thought popped in his mind.

"What should I do?" he asked desperately and jumped from his chair, reaching for his wand when the empty room responded.

"Master should check his gold in Gringotts. Master should become a better wizard, worthy of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Master should make sure that filthy mudbloods and blood-traitors from the ministry don't bother Master because he killed Dark Lord and others and Master should eat more," Kreacher droned, almost sounding concerned as he pretended to dust the family crest.

Harry breathed out, and put his wand back in the front pocket in order to avoid losing his buttocks, according to Moody. Thinking about elf's proposition, he decided he really should do something to reconcile his relationship with Goblins.

"I'll go to Gringotts later, then. Thank you Kreacher."

"Master is too kind," elf bowed again and Harry decided he won't bother with thanking him anymore. It seemed elf didn't appreciate it and Dumbledore once told him that Kreacher is what he was made by wizards. Who is he to change that?

"Kreacher will prepare best robes for Master," the elf said as Harry scoffed.

"What robes? I have no good ones."

"Master Regulus had many. Master Harry has a similar height and build. They will fit."

(...)

Harry stumbled out of floo, barely managing to stay on his feet, and every face in Leaky Cauldron turned towards him. Their eyes widened as they recognized him and he cursed under his breath, praying they will shake his hand only once.

Unfortunately, he undermined his own fame and managed to escape the inn only after a few very long hours.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, as he tapped the right brick and entered the Diagon alley. He was sad to see that many of the shops that graced it were still closed; some were demolished, some had newspapers glued on their windows and some, like Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just looked abandoned and lifeless.

He swore to change that. He will personally drag George in there if he has to, if only to continue Fred's lifework he shared with his twin. Harry knew that was what Fred would like, after all, it was their dream.

He also had one darker thought, in which he wished that George had left this world with his twin, with the same mischievous grin on his face in his last moments. However, Harry learned a long time ago that fate was a cruel bitch, and there was nothing he could do to rectify that.

As he reached Gringotts, he shook his head, in an attempt to drive away this kind of thought and swept away invisible dust from his shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he encouraged himself to proceed in the enormous, white building.

Two goblin guards, once they realized who he was, changed their posture immediately. They narrowed their eyes, pointed their weapons towards him, and waited.

"Umm, hello," he started stupidly, but quickly continued when one of the guards started to advance at him, "I'd like to speak to your boss."

"What about, wizard?" We don't do business with thieves," one that was closer to him spat.

"I am not a thief!" he hotly replied, surprising both of them and himself with a loud crack of accidental magic that followed after his outburst.

"Listen," he tried again, "I know I did wrong by you and I was just wondering if I could speak to whoever is in charge of the bank so we could talk about it. Maybe even reach some kind of agreement."

Two goblins exchanged brief glance and then, to Harry's relief, the closer one nodded and slightly dropped his guard. The way to their chief was a long one and Harry tried to remember the way, but it was impossible to do so. They turned right or left too many times to count, all hallways looked the same and goblin walked at an incredibly fast pace for his height.

Finally, they arrived in front of the big, dark entrance that looked just like the vault door. Goblin gently stroked it and Harry could hear complicated mechanisms working its job as the massive door slowly opened. Not feeling that brave, but refusing to show it, he stepped inside.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," the voice of the ancient goblin reached him. Harry squinted his eyes to see him better while he took his seat. And indeed, the goblin looked almost as old as Kreacher, his skin grey and lose, his eyes old and tired, his movements slow and short.

"The damage done to the Gringotts bank was extensive, but that is just the beginning. We lost 24 Goblins, 5 wizards, and, as you are already aware, one dragon. Damage can be repaired, a new dragon can be trained and other wizards can be hired, but the loss my kind experienced cannot be forgotten. Family members cannot be replaced, loved one cannot be brought back from the land beyond us," old goblin droned as Harry squirmed in his seat, not knowing what to say. He didn't acknowledged indifference old goblin showed towards the dead wizards.

"As you are already aware, there is no love between our kinds. There never was, but still, you showed some minor compassion towards us when you saved traitor from the dungeon of Malfoy manor. Griphook was his name, I believe."

"Even knowing what you did to us, you dared to approach us, in order to repent for your sins and to fix the relationship between us. Something your government hasn't deemed necessary to do."

"They probably blame you because you served him," Harry finally dared to say, but in a neutral tone.

"Served him?" old goblin breathed out, looking even more tired than before, "We did what we have been doing all those years; performing our duties to your kin at the best of our ability. Your laws forbid us to stand against your ministry and now we are blamed because we didn't do so. Even if I could, I wouldn't do so..."

"Why?" Harry interrupted, angrily, "Why have you let bloody children to fight the war you cooked for yourself?"

Goblin gave him a long look, his eyes fixed on Harry, "We have been in war for centuries, wizard, and we didn't care much if you changed one dictator for another. Nothing has changed for us, except we were in even more danger than before. You asked me why we didn't stand up against your Dark Lord? We didn't because I said no," goblin stopped to take two deep breaths before he continued, "Imagine being remembered as the last king of your kingdom, as the last goblin, as a goblin who was responsible for the extermination of his own race."

Harry thought it over, agreeing with a goblin on some points and disagreeing on others, but spoke none of them. Instead he bluntly stated, "So can we reach some kind of agreement? I really need my gold."

"You are a strange wizard," goblin uttered words Harry already heard once before, but this time he hadn't cared about them.

"So I've been told."

"Half of your fortunes," goblin finally decided after few seconds. Harry was ready to counter it, but then he got an idea.

"And you won't bother Weasleys and Hermione with this," he tried and goblin merely nodded, writing something down.

"Half of your fortunes," he repeated, "And a promise."

"What promise?" he asked warily, remembering his last deal with a goblin.

"Simple one, wizard, one that goblins will give to you too. Vow to never act violently against each other."

Harry thought it over carefully, trying to think of any hidden meaning of such a vow. When he found none, he agreed, but had to ask, "Why that? I mean, I'm not a strong wizard and I don't care much about politics."

"There is little we, goblins, can do to stop your prejudice and hate towards us, and every time when I can, I protect my people with such a vow. Every wizard that vowed not to act against us, is one less enemy to be worried about. And you are young, but magical beings live long and who knows what would you be in 50 years."

It was a good argument, Harry noticed, but it didn't change his mind. Everything he ever wanted was a peaceful life and this oath won't stop it in any way.

(...)

Happy with his new deal with goblins, Harry immediately sent Patronus to invite his best friends, Ron and Hermione, over to tell them the good news and to catch up. True, they haven't seen each other only for a few days, but still, they were always together and Harry felt weird without their presence.

Sure, he knew how they would react when they saw him; Ron would want to talk about mundane things with his best mate in order to escape from the world of grief that Weasley family was currently and Hermione would ask him how was he and if he was alright on his own. She would pester him in order to forget that she had left her parents in Australia, hoping they are happier than they were with her.

Ron arrived first, casually walking in, as if it were his own house. Harry didn't mind. They would always be welcome.

"You look like a ponce, mate," his friend greeted him, causing Harry to inspect his robes once again.

"The best robes I have, according to Kreacher," Harry defended, leading Ron in the dining room.

"Master looks like a proper wizard," Kreacher revealed himself, "Anything for the guest?"

"Bring us some butterbeer," Harry ordered.

"And cookies," Ron added, sitting down. They stood in silence for a while, waiting for Kreacher to serve them.

"So," Ron started, "Your Patronus sounded excited."

"Yeah, well, I was in Gringotts," Harry started, but Ron interrupted him immediately.

"What? Are you mad? You are lucky they didn't behead you and put it in the middle of Diagon."

Harry just shrugged, and answered, "They agreed that it was Riddle's fault."

Ron gaped in disbelief, remained like that for a few seconds, and then laughed out loud and clapped Harry's back, "You reckless idiot! You bastard, HAH, you did it? Bloody hell, mate, what have they asked in return?"

Harry sighed. So much for his hopes that they wouldn't think of that.

"Some gold," he replied, trying to sound casual. He knew that gold was not a good topic to reach with Ron so he tried to get over it as soon as possible. He decided not to tell them about the promise part.

Before Ron could answer, however, Hermione appeared and rushed to hug Harry. He spread his hands, ready for one of the tight hugs she liked to give and returned to his seat. They sat in silence for a whole minute when Ron decided to break the tension Harry didn't know existed.

"Chudley Cannons won their last match," he blurted out. Harry and Hermione looked at him in disbelief and then, a few seconds later, fell into the round of laughter. Just like that, the tension was broken and they happily continued to catch up.

"Are you returning to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked him.

"Umm, I don't think so. It is just, you know," he trailed, his eyes unfocused and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it in a comforting way.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I just..." she started, but he had to interrupt her.

"It's okay. There are enough books here for me to catch up and some of the portraits already agreed to share a thing or two," he changed the topic.

"Are you sure that is safe?" she asked.

"Yeah, I mean aren't books here a little bit...you know...evil?" Ron added.

"Ron, they're just books and Hermione, yeah, I think it's safe. It's just...after seeing Riddle in action I realized how little I really know. Here, at home, I can focus on my studies without everyone whispering about me and pointing their fingers," he ranted and he knew they understood. He could see it in their eyes. Deep understanding born out of many years of friendship and numerous attempts at their, but mostly his, life.

"We get it, bloody hell, we get it. I mean, some people point at me now and I have no idea how could I be jealous of you, like ever."

"So, will you make some kind of schedule for your studies or? I can send you notes from Hogwarts if you want," Hermione returned to the topic.

"Well, I think I'll do only a few subjects at the time. I kinda want to go over the things we did in 6th year, you know, to see if I'm still pants at magic," he replied, scratching his head.

"Don't be like that. You are not unintelligent, you just had a, well, intriguing school years. I'm sure you will catch up in no time," she smiled at him and he smiled back. He really needed some encouragement.

"Yeah. I mean if I passed my second year with a broken wand, Chosen One won't have any problems with a Death Stick," Ron joked, but Hermione got serious.

"A-are you using it? Or your own wand?" Harry hesitated before answering. He didn't want to speak about hallows or about strange feelings they gave him.

"Yeah," he finally decided on an answer, "I use my own in public and so, but I do new spells and stuff with it."

"Is there really any difference?" Ron wanted to know, "Is it really that powerful?"

"No," Harry slowly replied, "But it kinda knows what I want. I pick up new things faster and sometimes it goes to my hand when I think about it. It feels more, dunno, natural?"

They both remained silent after his explanation so he hurried to point their conversation into safer waters.

"Anyway, do you guys have any idea what to do once you got your NEWTs?"

"Kingsley offered me an auror position if I get passable grades. I think I'll take it. There's not much I'm good at anyway," Ron indulged him, "That is if things are okay at home till then. I'll stay at home if mom and George don't break out of their depression."

"I still don't know," Hermione added, sending a sad look towards Ron. Harry knew why she didn't comment. She wanted him to focus on his own life, but couldn't reprimand him for wanting to help his family. Harry would do the same if he had any left.

"I want to do something for the betterment of the whole magical world, not only wizards and witches. Honestly, it is time for some progress and I'm planning on introducing some open-minded ideas, if I can," she explained and Harry smiled. She really was a noble girl and Harry really wanted her to succeed.

"What about you?" Ron asked him quietly. He had a strange look on his face, one Harry couldn't interpret. It was something between pity and understanding, but it didn't make any sense to Harry.

"Dunno. Maybe travel a bit, see the world."

"That would be nice," Hermione commented, but Harry felt a need to explain himself further.

"I mean, I remember when I saw Diagon for the first time. I was so curious about magic. I wanted to know how everything worked, I wondered about the limits of magic. I-I wondered if there was a way to bring them back. Especially when I saw that blasted mirror for the first time," he continued passionately, noticing the dark look on Ron's face and a tear in Hermione's eye, "and where did that wonder disappear? There is so much to magic, but we were never able to research it properly because grown-ups fucked up everything and pushed us into the war we were far too young to be a part of. Now, instead of that wonder, I have PTSD and never-ending nightmares. Didn't we deserve some peace? Some time off?"

He was breathing deeply when he finished, cursing himself once again because of his inability to control his temper.

"You deserved it, sure, but you'll never have any peace here," Ron told him bluntly, "You are a celebrity. Your name is spoken in the same line as Dumbledore's and everyone is expecting you to fix everything and dunno whatnot."

"Yeah," Harry stated, defeated, because he knew it was the truth, "I know."

(...)

Days have passed, and Harry stopped inviting his friends over. He missed them, but the last conversation with them showed him that it was too early. They were living reminders of what he has lived through and it was too much for him to cope.

These days were pure torture for Harry; sleep denied him its sweet escape from the reality, food had no taste, potions effects were reduced... Only solace and distraction he could find in the house were books and portraits and their ageless knowledge.

Annoyingly, portraits decided that he was some kind of a lord and insisted on using that phrase to address him when working with him. Kreacher, always loyal to deceased Blacks, adopted the name too.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely showed itself, when Kreacher finally managed to convince Harry to deal with letters that kept coming.

"What in the Merlins name is this?" he said loudly when Kreacher showed him the room he called 'the letter room' and the name finally made sense to Harry; there was hundred of letters on the pile that covered most of the room and every few seconds a new one arrived.

"People being grateful to you, my lord," Kreacher explained," These being presents, invitations, letter of gratitude, cursed letters, and many more."

"Can you just split the useless ones from important ones?" Harry asked hopefully, but elf quickly crushed his hopes.

"Kreacher knows not what is important to lord Harry. Kreacher can only get rid of cursed ones."

"How do you know which ones are cursed?" Harry asked curiously.

"House be telling. Old masters took safety very seriously. They been putting many magics around the house to tell if the items are evil."

"Why don't they tell me?" he demanded to know.

"Master isn't in charge of the magic surrounding the house and even then the house will tell only if it is very evil. It is elf's job to protect his masters."

"Oh. Do you know how to do that?"

"Mistress knows, m' lord, master, you should be asking her," Kreacher directed him, much to his dismay.

"Okay then. Get rid of cursed ones, I don't want to read those and see if there are some by Kingsley, Ron, or Hermione. If there is, put them on top, okay?"

"Yes, my lord," old elf dutifully replied and Harry just sighed, preparing himself for a conversation with infamous Walburga Black. Deciding there was no sense in delaying the inevitable, he made his way in the hall, where the portrait was and took a deep breath.

"Mrs. Black?" he called quietly, pulling the curtain that was over it away.

"You! Filthy half-blood has returned to defile the house of my fathers. YOU ARE A DISGRACE, just like your godfather was," she started, but Harry was more than used to her demeanor and interrupted her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I am the owner of the house and therefore the only way for this noble house to reach its previous status," he stated casually. It wasn't the truth of course, since both Malfoy and Teddy could inherit the line, but the portrait didn't have to know that.

"So, as much of a disgrace I am, I'm also your only way to preserve the blood you seem to like so much."

"Filthy blood," she corrected, causing Harry to sigh again, but also added, "What do you want?"

Now that he got her attention, he could share some more with her, he decided, "I wanted to bring remaining members of the family back. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, who are waiting for the trial, and Andromeda and Teddy."

"More filth! Not worthy of our ancestry," she decided, but Harry ignored her.

"And to do so, I have to take control over the wards."

She was observing him, Harry noticed, and at that moment she looked more sane than he had remembered. Deciding to go along with he waited.

"You are a bit on a short side for a true Black," she finally commented, sniffing loudly in an obvious disdain, "But you do have some of our looks. If you let your hair grow, you might even curb it and look somewhat presentable."

Harry just raised his eyebrow. Does his look really mattered?

"You are underfed, you wear rags, and you look like you haven't been asleep in years," she sniffed again.

"Fix that, and I'll teach you."

"How to take control of the wards?" he wanted to be sure.

"That," insane, old woman confirmed, but added, "And much more."

Harry smiled in relief, "See you in a few days then," he said, but she just frowned, murmuring something too quiet for him to hear. Not bothering with it, he turned around and groaned as he remembered a huge pile of letters that awaited for him.

"MASTER," he suddenly heard, "WE WILL BE BURNING SOME IF THEY KEEP COMING," mad elf continued and Harry wondered why did he sounded amused.

When he arrived, the difference in the number of letters was clear and Kreacher's amusement now made sense. Harry groaned again.


	3. Chapter 3

_August 1997_

Harry stopped reading newspapers some time ago and didn't see the need to start again any time soon. After all the hard time they have given him, he realized the media and the reality were two very different things.

Because of that, when he found out Kingsley was chosen for a minister, he was surprised, but only for a moment. It was a good choice, he agreed, and thought about the man.

He was a tall, black man, with broad shoulders. He was bald and liked to wear a single gold hoop earring. Even though, it wasn't his physical appearance that would make him a good minister.

It was his deep, calm, and reassuring voice that was like a port in a storm. It was his posture, collected and strong, as if he never lost any hope no matter how dire the situation was. It was his commanding presence, the presence of a leader that would make him a good minister.

Still, Harry had his doubts. Sure, Kingsley was a good man, but as a letter helpfully provided, he was a minister now and that meant he was deeply buried in politics. Harry never liked politicians. He saw how efficient they were, and he suffered because of it. He saw how corrupt they were, how prejudiced and there was nothing that could improve the picture of ministry in his eyes.

Well, except Kingsley, maybe.

The letter practically demanded that he showed up in the ministry office, he noticed, as he read it once again and it left an ugly taste in his mouth. Would they offer him auror spot like they did to Ron? Does Kingsley just want to catch up with his old comrade? Do they want to know what he was up to last year?

"Kreacher," he finally called.

"I need robes that would say something like 'Do not approach me' or something like that," he explained to the old elf and his eyes twinkled with happiness.

"Master wants to look dangerous?" elf beamed, "Kreacher knows exactly what master needs."

Harry, not knowing what to do with that answer, simply responded, "Umm. Yeah, sure."

Elf beamed once again, loudly popping away.

(...)

Harry reached the phone booth he knew very well. It wasn't the entrance he preferred, but floo was out of the question. The media would have a field day if they heard how very proficient he was with the travel most of the society favored.

Dialing 6-2-4-4-2, he inspected his robes once again. They were blacker than it was natural and he could swear that Kreacher did something to them. However, it wasn't that that really bothered him, no. It was their eerie resemblance to the robes Riddle liked to wear. Simple, yet elegant. Fancy, but intimidating. Formal, yet lose enough if one had to fight...

"Welcome to the ministry of magic," emotionless voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Please state your name and business."

Harry wondered if someone actually checked those answers and entertained himself with an idea of saying something completely out of the context, but refrained of doing so. He was an adult now, a serious wizard.

"Harry James Potter, to meet a minister," he said, trying to sound bored, like Malfoys liked to do.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes," the voice ordered and Harry obliged. As the phone boot shuddered and started sinking into the ministry of magic the voice reminded him to present a wand to the official in the Atrium.

"The ministry of magic wishes you a pleasant day," it finished once Harry finally arrived in Atrium and made his way towards the desk he remembered.

Clerk looked as bored as a man could possibly be and took his wand without a glance towards Harry who didn't mind. The fewer people recognized him, the better.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core," he grunted, but his eyes snapped up as he continued. How he recognized Harry's wand he had no idea, "In use for seven years."

"Indeed," Harry replied, already annoyed with a wizard whose chin was hanging now.

"My wand if you don't mind," he demanded as a wizard rushed to do exactly that.

"Yes, of course, Mr Potter.

That little stunt was enough for the half-full Atrium to switch the attention towards him, much to his annoyance, but his robes seemed to be doing their job as no one tried to approach him. Nothing has changed, he bitterly realized, as he overheard same shit he did when he was eleven, about to be sorted.

"Look, it's Potter."

"I thought he would be taller."

"Got himself some nice robes, huh?"

He felt his cheeks reddening as he tried to block the voices out. Why couldn't they just mind their own business? After all these years of being stared at, it didn't become any easier. They all watched him like he was some sort of a hero, but Harry knew better.

Real heroes were those who gave their lives for him. Those who stood up against Riddle and his Death Eaters fully knowing it might cost them everything. Those who never bowed to the rising darkness. Those who gave everything to stop him.

And yet, their names were quickly forgotten, their sacrifices unmentioned. Still, Harry liked to think that their memories lived within him, giving him strength and reminding him of what he fought for. The thought made him happier for a moment and he smiled, but it was quickly replaced with a slight frown as he arrived in front of the office of the minister of magic.

The young secretary was looking at him, her eyes wide, her work forgotten.

Once again annoyed, he tapped his silver badge.

"Harry Potter, to meet a minister."

"Yes," she finally broke out of her stupor or whatever it was.

"Of course, Mr Potter. He is waiting for you."

He nodded politely, breathed out, braced himself, and pressed the doorknob. There were more people inside the office than Harry expected.

Kingsley, with a warm, friendly smile extending his hand towards him, sitting behind the giant desk.

Amos Diggory, sitting alone in the corner of the office, looking like he hadn't slept for a year, with a frown on his face. He didn't even glance towards Harry.

Arthur Weasley, in front of the desk, close to Harry with a tired, but nonetheless friendly smile.

He accepted the minister's hand and shook it, his grip tight. The portraits of various Blacks claimed one can tell a lot about another person by shaking his hand so Harry tried to do so. Kingsley's grip was strong, as he expected, but his palm was a bit sweaty. Was he nervous? Does that mean this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation?

"Minister," he nodded, honoring the man. Politeness and manners, portraits insisted, are the best shield in political circles. Keep your distance until offers are made. "Mr. Diggory, Mr. Weasley."

Start with the most important person in the room, he was told, then work your way downwards.

"Now, none of that, Harry. Call me Kingsley, please, and sit down," the minister said, but Harry noticed something behind his smile. Caution, wariness and, dare he say, calculation.

Harry did so, smiling back. Really what was this all about?

"Alright, Kingsley, so what is this all about?" he said, wincing inwardly. Maybe politics really weren't his best field since he preferred bluntness. Diggory finally raised his head, looking at Harry. He also felt Mr Weasley squirming somewhere behind him. Kingsley remained as collected as ever, but his smile was replaced with a tired sigh.

"It's about the mess that ministry is right now."

"What about it?" Harry asked, still not sure where it was going. Adults exchanged the looks as Mr. Weasley conjured himself a chair and took a seat next to Harry.

"Look, Harry, while you were on a run, You-know-who ran a ministry from the shadows. Now that he is gone, a lot of people claim they were imperiused, whole departments are missing and the public does not trust us," he tried to explain, but Harry focused just on the last sentence. They don't trust them, he said. Huh.

"We need to start trials, reevaluate every person working here, get Hogwarts fixed and our hands are tied because we have no gold, no real backup to push the laws and not enough trustworthy people," Diggory added, again avoiding Harry's eyes.

"So what do you want from me?" he asked, knowing they had to had some kind of play here.

"You are still a hero in the eyes of people," Mr. Weasley said softly, "They will back us up if they heard words coming from you."

Harry stilled, not believing his ears. Didn't they know Rufus Scrimgeour already tried that? Didn't they remember his answer? He wanted to curse them all and go home. He wasn't a bloody hero and it wasn't his bloody job to fix everything.

Still, this was not time to throw a tantrum, he rationalized to himself, and they might leave him alone if he did some things. His presence might even ensure just trials.

"So what would you want me to do?" he asked after half a minute of silence and Kingsley breathed out in relief.

"Not much. Show in ministry a few times per week, make some statements for the press, and act as a witness in incoming trials," he said hastily, looking at Harry who nodded along. It really wasn't much, but he really hated the idea of him being the poster boy for the worst institution in the country.

"I want some things in return," he said firmly. Sure, they were friends, but portraits would curse him if he didn't get as much as he could out of incoming deal.

"Stability of our country isn't enough for you?" Diggory spat angrily, but Kingsley put his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm the man down.

"Come on, Amos. I'm sure Harry's demands will be reasonable," he said and Arthur nodded, "So what is it that you want?"

"I want something that states that I will not be prosecuted because of anything I did during the last few years. To be exact, for nothing that happened after Riddle's resurrection," he said. Better safe than sorry, he reckoned. Judging by the looks of everyone present, that was acceptable.

"I want Malfoys released," he added, knowing that he owed Mrs Malfoy.

"Narcissa and Draco, that is," he rushed to say when he saw Diggory opening his mouth.

"I'm not sure if that will pass," Kingsley started carefully. "He had a mark. And everyone knows he aided the murder of Albus Dumbledore. We have nothing exact on her, but she had to be aware of what was going on in the manor."

"They both helped me when it mattered the most," Harry insisted. "I won't let them rot in Askaban when their only sin is trying to protect each other!"

Men exchanged looks, seemingly understanding each other.

"They won't have anything to their names. The ministry seized everything they owned," Diggory said matter-of-factly. "At least they will have food in Askaban."

Harry gave him a disgusted look. This wasn't the same bright man, if maybe a bit overzealous about his son, whom Harry has met before his fourth year. It was sad, really, to see that man never got over the murder of his only son. Harry tried to feel for him, but hearing the toxic in his voice, he just couldn't. Everyone lost the loved ones during the war and it wasn't the excuse to act like savages, out for revenge.

Even in victory, they should remain dignified, Harry firmly believed.

"I'll take them in," he decided. It was weird, Harry knew, to offer a place to stay to bloody Draco Malfoy.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Mr. Weasley tried carefully, but Harry knew how to respond to him.

"They are family, however distant, and I won't let them waste away, neither in Askaban nor on the streets! If you want me to help you, you'll take me to Malfoys and free them."

He was done here. He was about to get up when Kingsley raised his hand, in an attempt to stop him and Harry paused, watching man intently. He let out a defeated sigh and nodded for himself.

"Alright, Harry. I'll order it immediately, but you'll have to fill a report where you will explain why they are freed and where you vouch for them. If we catch them breaking the law, it'll be your fault," he said and Harry thought about it. Was it another way to try to chain him to the ministry? Kingsley wasn't stupid, Harry knew, and judging by his, now much colder, gaze he probably knew it would come down to this.

Pity, Harry sighed inwardly. He has thought Kingsley is about to change the whole ministry for the better, but it seemed he just adjusted to the game of politics.

"Alright. I'll bring it in few days when I make my first visit to the ministry," he said coldly. So much about them being friends. It finally clicked to Harry why the other two men were present in the room. Arthur was a friendly face, explaining this to Harry in terms he would understand while Amos was a distraction. They did minister's dirty work while he acted as a voice of reason, negotiating a deal he already prepared.

Harry would ask portraits for few more lessons about politics, he decided, as he turned around, ready to fetch the Malfoys and go home.

(...)

Luckily, they weren't yet in Askaban, but rather in some kind of waiting room. Why have they received that honor while his godfather was shipped in prison without a trial, Harry didn't know, but was glad nonetheless.

They both stood up when Harry entered the room with young auror he vaguely remembered from his school years and hence, the staring contest started.

Suddenly, he felt stupid. What has he expected? They looked at him impassively, but Harry could see well-hidden fear behind the mask of defiance. One thing at the time, he decided, turning towards auror.

"Why are you still here?" He asked, with more venom in his voice than he intended. Auror gaped, looked around himself, maybe looking for some kind of help from some superior, but when none had come he tried on his own.

"Umm, for your safety, Mr Potter?"

"Against two unarmed citizens?" he asked, deliberately choosing the word that reminded them that they were, in fact, free people.

"I have to ensure," auror tried again, but Harry lost all of his patience.

"I will ensure that you are fired in the next thirty minutes if you don't leave immediately," he hissed and auror practically ran away muttering his apologies. Harry felt a little bad for a moment. It wasn't his fault he was in a bad mood.

"Alright," he started, turning around and sitting in front of Malfoys who carefully followed his movements.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asked, but for a change, there wasn't any malice in his voice.

"I vouched for you," he said bluntly, "and as of half an hour ago, you are free to go."

He allowed himself a small smile when he noticed how Narcissa's face brightened and how Draco gaped like a fish.

"Why would you do that?" he asked again and Harry shook his head. His ex-rival was as blunt as he was. He should've been Gryffindor.

"Because your mother saved my life, because I saved yours, because I don't believe you deserve to rot along with your father, because we are family, however distant. Choose one of those reasons. They're all enough for me."

"For me too, Mr. Potter," Narcissa spoke for the first time, unable to hide her smile, "but why would you come to inform us personally. I would imagine that defeater of Dark Lord has a busy schedule."

Were all Slytherins proficient in prying? Still, he had no reason to lie.

"You would be surprised how dull the life of the hero is, "he said, his voice dozed with sarcasm.

"And yes, there is a reason why I came personally. You see, in their infinitive wisdom, the ministry decided that two of you don't need place or gold to live so they seized everything your family has had," he said and waited for them to process that piece of information.

"W-we have nothing? Nowhere to live?" Narcissa managed, as her son yelled, "What? We are poor?"

"Poorer than Weasleys," Harry couldn't resist to say, but to his astonishment, Draco just laughed humorlessly.

"Who would've thought," he drawled, finally sounding like a proper Malfoy.

"Stop it Draco! No one will take us in now, when our name has been disgraced," Narcissa started hysterically.

"Yeah, that's kinda the reason I'm here," Harry replied, suddenly shy.

"I live in Black's ancestral house and there is plenty of room there." Draco gaped again, opening his mouth multiple times, but no sound escaped them. Narcissa watched him for a few seconds like she had seen a ghost, but the expression was quickly replaced by the widest and the brightest beam Harry has ever seen. If only because of that, it was worth it in Harry's mind.

Further surprising him, she quickly breached the gap between them and jumped to hug Harry who, reflexively, spread his arms. A moment later, he had his arms full of older witch who, Harry noticed, even shed a tear.

He glanced at Draco, visibly confused, but another boy just shrugged, sporting a little smirk. How would say Malfoys could be so emotional.

Once she calmed down, there was nothing else to do, but to ask.

"So? Shall we?" And they did.

Strangely, no one has mentioned nor thought about Lucius.

(...)

Harry admitted that he had no idea how elves' magic worked. As they arrived at his home, the old elf was already waiting for them, bouncing in excitement in the hall. Even the portrait of Walburga looked somewhat happy.

Kreacher, somehow, already had the rooms ready and happily announced the dinner. The three of them, without any idea how to proceed, decided to follow Kreacher.

Once they have eaten and started with the tea, Draco cleared his throat, and Harry knew he finally started to think about his future.

"Not to be ungrateful, Potter, Harry," he corrected.

"But I should think about mother's and my future and seeing how we are left without any gold..." he trailed, but Harry understood. Pureblood wizards took the greatest pride in taking care of their families. Even Weasleys, who were known for their lack of money, refused any help as long as they could survive on their own. Whatever Harry wanted to believe, the blood was held in high regard in a magical world, and the family was a somewhat sacred thing. He respected that, and already expected this conversation.

"Right, I can lend you some money to educate yourself or to get on until you find a job. I can also buy your manor and hold it for you until you can pay for it," he offered and Draco slowly nodded, swallowing.

"Yeah, it would be appreciated, but..." he trailed again and Narcissa decided to jump in the conversation.

"He wants to say that, because of our name, no one would be willing to offer him apprenticeship or employment," she said much to Draco's shame, but he still held himself straight.

"Oh," Harry said lamely. He hadn't thought about that. Surely someone would be willing?

"How about your, umm, friends from school and their families?" Narcissa remained silent as Draco scoffed loudly.

"Nott's in the same position as us and Goyle's in the prison," he said. No one mention how strange it was to hear Goyle's name without that of Crabbe right after it.

"Parkinson?"

"Please, the likes of them stand around you as long as you have more money than them," Draco spatted causing Harry to raise his eyebrows. He remembered Pansy being quite cozy with Draco.

"Pansy is fine," he continued, correctly interpreting Harry's expression, "but her family isn't the friendliest one around. They fell into silence after that statement as Harry thought about his new roommates. Should they just move away and start from the beginning? Then, suddenly, he got an idea.

"You any good with numbers, economy, and that stuff?" he asked Draco and continued, switching his attention towards Narcissa. "Managing press, speeches, public picture?"

"Please, we are Malfoys," Draco scoffed, puffing his chest a bit.

"Okay," Harry nodded, "Well, I've inherited a lot from Blacks and I have no idea how to manage that money and I reckon goblins won't care about your name. Also, I have kind of a deal with ministry where I should...promote them? And, again, I've no idea how to do that."

"You, you want us to work for you?" Draco exclaimed loudly, exchanging the look with his mother.

"Only until you get on your feet. Or until public calms down," Harry said defensively, but Narcissa shook her head.

"No, no, that's perfect. Draco, you might even get recognized in Gringotts, if you do a good job with Harry's account. They'll have you if they think you can earn them more gold!"

He scowled, watching at the ceiling thoughtfully. Once he was over, he slowly nodded and turned attention back to Harry.

"You'll have to get me books from Gringotts, about your accounts and we can talk numbers once I start to bring actual money in, okay?" he asked and Harry was more than happy to agree.

(...)

Life with Malfoys was weird, but Harry learned to enjoy it.

Narcissa, true to her word, was more than capable with the press and Harry grudgingly did his job. She had a talent for writing long speeches that backed up the ministry, without really saying anything about Harry's stances and preferences.

Her pureblood ways also started rubbing him. She scolded him every few minutes on this or that, in a motherly way Harry secretly loved.

"Manners, Harry!"

"Language!"

"Straighten up!"

"You are going out like that?!"

Other than that, she was a well of knowledge on various topics and Harry listened to her lessons with a passion of a first-year student. It was a good addition to his already full schedule and he didn't mind it.

Draco, it seemed, really knew his way around the money and goblins quickly took advantage of it. They quickly offered him a few more accounts to manage in order to 'evaluate his skills and observe his methods' what he gladly accepted. Harry, not wanting to offend young pureblood, went behind his back to meet a director of the bank and vouched for him. In the end, it wasn't needed, but Harry appreciated their effort nonetheless and gifted them with a goblin made armor he found in one of the vaults.

Harry also appreciated the presence of someone his own age in the house. When there was nothing better to do, the duo enjoyed chess, talking about various topics teenagers liked such as Quidditch, witches, and insulting each other. They even found a nice meadow just outside of London where they could enjoy a few hours of flying around.

They all got together for the dinner, where Kreacher went a full elf mode and so there were many different meals all of which were delicious. Harry and Draco usually filled Narcissa in about their days as she commented and added her own stories or experiences if they were relevant to the topic.

All in all, Harry was pleased with his new and awkward family. He defended them again and again as the letters of his friends arrived, telling him he was bonkers (Ron), calling him rash and compulsive (Hermione), or asking him to borrow his new servants to experiment on them (George).

Lastly, he gained a few more pounds and changed his look from 'underfed' to merely 'scrawny'.

He counted it as a victory.


	4. Chapter 4

_November 1997._

The night before the beginning of the trials Harry and Draco were playing their usual evening match of chess. Narcissa was there too, giving Draco a piece of odd advice, but mostly, she gossiped about random people and talked about news of the magical world.

Harry didn't mind though, as her soft voice was the only thing separating them from total silence. He didn't understand why women preferred talking about nothing in particular over the silence, but he guessed it was how mothers were. Maybe it was a way to spend more time with her son, maybe it was an appreciation of their freedom and making the most out of it and maybe she didn't know how else to talk with two young men.

Tonight, however, was a bit different because, for the first time since they started playing chess, Harry was winning. At least, he thought so.

He was never particularly good in a game. The best strategies evaded him, the complexity of the openings and defenses was too much for him and the sheer number of combinations that could happen over the board made his brain fuzzy.

Still, tonight he was confident he would come on the top. He found a simple way to turn game into the something he understood; he simply traded pieces down till they were left with rook and pawns end game and there they were.

They both had three pawns each and a rook, but where Draco's three pawns were connected Harry had two pawns facing them, but the third pawn was on the other side of the board, happily marching towards its destiny.

Passed pawn, Harry remembered the term for it, as he pushed it forward. Pieces usually yelled at him, gave him advice, and frowned as he ordered them around, but tonight they were mercifully quiet. Like Harry, his king and his rock never took their eyes from the pawn that threatened to win a game, and as long as Harry used them to ensure the pawn's safety they obliged.

Harry saw a small smirk on his cousin's face and wondered for a second if he had blundered a game, but dismissed the thought quickly. Malfoys were weird like that, seeming confident even if they were losing, refusing to show any weaknesses, trying to throw off their opponents with fake facial expressions.

In Harry's mind, a whole situation was grotesque and it hit too close to home so he had no idea should he laugh to the irony of it or cry because of its deeper meaning. One pawn stood there. It was far from the strongest piece and some may even rendered them useless, but they still existed. Pawns had many uses: you could protect worthier pieces with them, you could sacrifice them for some other advantage, you could hide your king behind them, but at the end of the day, it was clear that their destiny was to be captured.

Not always, though, because they had one other use. If it survived long enough, if it beats everything that was thrown on its way, if it marches forward no matter what, it may become something else: It will reincarnate into something stronger, it will become a game-changer, it will justify all the sacrifices made before, and at the end, it will win the game.

Harry pushed his pawn one last time, queening it, and chuckled quietly. Was he really that pathetic that he compared his life with a life of a charmed, animated pawn? What a realization, he bitterly thought, a bloody pawn has to die in order for queen to come forward and win the game

From then on, a game was completely one-sided and it took only ten more moves before Draco's king took its crown off and bowed to Harry. It made him proud, even if he would never admit it to them. Draco leaned back at the chair, sighing loudly.

"Well, it was good while it lasted," he joked, still observing the board.

"Well done, Harry, I knew it was only a matter of time," Narcissa beamed at him. Harry still couldn't believe that this was the same woman he met on the world's cup, one with a lip curled with disgust. Still, he couldn't help, but smile back. The praise came ten years too late, but it was still very appreciated.

"I thought you were trying for a draw, with all the trading," Draco shook his head, as he couldn't believe Harry, a Gryffindor, beat him in a game of patience and strategy.

"Pawns are a specialty of mine," Harry muttered, more to himself. Draco and Narcissa both looked at him strangely, but he just stood up, swished his wand to put pieces back to their places, and left the room, muttering some excuse.

Draco was no stranger to moody Harry Potter and didn't comment on his abrupt leaving, but he knew his mother will surely be worried.

"What was that, Draco?" she asked and he just shrugged.

"Maybe because of the trials? They start tomorrow?" Narcissa wondered, but Draco shook his head. His mother was usually a sharp and intelligent woman, but most of her life was centered about obliging her husband and keeping her head down. Because of that, and pureblood customs, she never had any real friends and lacked in terms of understanding modern teenagers. Especially those that went through the war.

"No, I don't think it's that," he decided to share his musings with his mother.

"We've been here for what? Month and a half?" he asked and when his mother nodded, he continued.

"And how many times he went to Weasleys? Or to meet his friends? He just practices magic with those portraits and reads Merlin knows what in that library," he said last part of the sentence with a hint of disgust. Malfoy library wasn't the friendliest place, but books that resided in the Black library was a completely new level of gore. He never understood why Harry left them untouched. He thought Gryffindor would burn all that 'dark' stuff without a second thought. Still, Potter managed to surprise him once again, as he always does.

"Something must be bothering him," Narcissa insisted and Draco had a fairly good idea what. Screams at the night, clutching of his wand whenever someone made an unexpected move and blank stare he sometimes adopted were telling a story Draco was familiar with. Draco was secretly afraid of that look, even if he would never admit it.

"Maybe you should invite some of your friends over?" mother brought him out of his stupor. He did think about asking Harry, but last time he saw Pansy she tried to sell him to Dark Lord and Theo Nott probably never spoke to the boy before.

"Maybe he isn't comfortable around his lot anymore," she sniffed, causing him to smirk. Malfoys would never like Weasleys. It was the first law of the universe.

"We'll see," he answered, pretending not to hear explosions that could be heard from one of the offices upstairs. His mother and he grew accustomed to it and in some sort of unspoken agreement they never spoke about it. Draco sometimes wished he became a friend with a strange wizard much earlier. Sure, he was strange, weird, impulsive, and a Gryffindor, but one could never say that life of Harry Potter was boring.

(...)

Trials, as Harry was told, were going to have three stages, based on the severity of the crimes committed. The first one will contain marked Death Eaters, ones who escaped Azkaban and those who managed to avoid it last time. The second stage, with a far bigger number of trials, will focus on war profiteers, snatchers, those who came into the position of power by exchanging favors with Dark Lord and so on. The third stage, sad as it was, was left for those who had no choice, those who were imperioused and those who worked for the regime out of their own will, like madam Umbridge.

Harry will have to witness in every single case, he was told, even if he has never seen most of the accused. The truth was, no one really knew what snatchers did to their victims before they brought them to do ministry and everyone who might know went crazy in Azkaban. The prison itself, once the winning side made its way into it, was a disaster.

Dementors had free reign there, torturing countless squibs, muggleborns, muggles, enemies of the regime, and so on. Few remained sane enough to somehow mimic a normal person, but they were unwilling to talk, probably to escape from their own demons. Harry understood all about demons so he didn't hold it against them, but because of it there was no real witness to most of the crimes committed so Harry would have to imprison them all.

He wasn't okay with it. His own godfather was a victim of such a trial, or rather, the lack of it, and he wanted to have nothing with it, but his ten-time blasted agreement with a ministry forced him to do so. He was tricked, he realized, he was manipulated again to lie to the whole world so Kingsley can keep his new position of power.

Accordingly, with every stage of trials, Harry has learned something new. First to earn the life sentence in Azkaban were the worst of Death Eaters, deranged ones, driven to insanity due to the magic they practiced, fanatics, psychopaths, sadists like Rodophulus Lestrange, Carrow siblings and Walden Macnair. For them, Harry could happily say that they deserved what they got and that they were evil scum.

However, Harry realized, most of the men that followed weren't evil. It was strange to see them, chained to the chair in the middle of the courtroom, with the same defiant faces, accepting their fates with grim nodes. Travers, Selwyn, Yaxley, Avery, Dolohov were all stoic in their defeat and Harry couldn't find hate from within himself for these people.

Slowly, but surely he realized those people's crimes weren't as gruesome and hateful as he was led to believe. All they did was eliminating their enemies, Harry reckoned, because that was who they were; soldiers fighting for what they believed, even if their beliefs were a pile of shit.

Rookwood was first to accept the right to talk before Azkaban, surprising most of the room. He was a tall guy, with grey hair and empty, light blue eyes that held no emotions. During the trials, he looked bored, surveying various wizards around him.

He slowly pushed himself to the feet, causing every auror nearby to stiffen.

"Stagnation, mediocrity, tyrant ministry. Is that what you want to settle for?" he spoke softly, but due to the silence in the courtroom, Harry was able to hear every word. Rookwood's eyes have ran across the room, finally settling down on Harry who defiantly returned the glare.

"You let children to fight your battles. You put all your hope into a boy who didn't even finish his education and when he emerged victorious you celebrated as if you have won," he droned on, pausing only to chuckle. It wasn't a happy chuckle. Still, the man observed Harry, only a hint of curiosity in his eyes. The silence in the room deepened during that short pause, Harry noticed.

"You haven't won. You haven't defeated our vision. You merely survived the crisis and the truth about your, so-called, victory will soon become clear."

"You haven't won either. Take him away," Kingsley said grimly, as aurors rushed to obey. However, as they dragged him away, a single word has made its way back in the courtroom.

"Yet."

The following trials, Harry found out, were a sham. Hundreds of wizards and witches who used the situation to make themselves rich and who hunted poor muggleborns down were free to go, receiving only fines for their crimes and less than a year of a prison.

Harry hated these kinds of people. Invertebrates, parasites, danglers, scum that never did a single day of honest work in their lives. They were human waste that thrived in others despair, not bothered by the suffering of the others. Write-offs whose only role in the society was to leech onto good, kind, and hard-working people.

"There isn't enough space for all of them," Kingsley defended his decision, "And their gold will be far more valuable to us than them in prison."

"Filthy gold!" Harry had replied hotly, "earned on the screams of innocents. It's bloody money!"

"I won't bore you with the inner workings of the ministry since I know you don't understand politics, but it needs lots of gold. GOLD WE DON'T HAVE," minister lost his composure and Harry almost decided to take his wand out.

"You are no better than Fudge," Harry said through his teeth and Kingsley just nodded.

"As long as it keeps the peace on the streets and stability inside the ministry. Now, onto trials..."

Therefore, Harry had learned the second thing. Any sort of government, whoever is in power of it, firstly and foremostly looks after itself. The weight of that illogical realization crushed what was left of Harry's spirit. The people, the very people who gave everything to ensure the existence of the ministry would always come second in their plans.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to crush something, but he knew there was no use to do so. They were all powerless to change it, he mused when the traitorous thought came in the front of his mind.

Voldemort had the power to change it. Dumbledore had the power to change it. Riddle tried and failed. Dumbledore didn't try and he didn't fail. Was it really that simple?

The third stage of the trials, which was conveniently open to the press, was so staged that Harry cringed a bit. Useless wizards like Pius Thicknesse were pardoned for their crimes and put back in the position of power. Said wizard, for example, became a new head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Crouch, at least, knew many languages, but Pius got his previous job only because his blood was pure enough and there was no one better around.

Kingsley had a few inspiring speeches too. Merciful leader, who was taught by great Albus Dumbledore himself trying to do his best and ensuring just trials. Press loved it and Harry wanted to puke.

Only good thing Harry could affect was a trial of Dolores Umbridge. He went into full witness mode for her, retelling his whole fifth year and his brief visit to the ministry in disguise just to pain her as bad as possible. Ugly woman, it seemed, lost of her spirit once Riddle was gone and she quietly sat in her chair as the jury discussed what to do with her. In the end, she got 10 years in Azkaban and Harry knew that would be enough to break hideous witch.

Even though this part looked more like a circus than like a trial Harry figured out another lesson. The press, if it was in the right hands, was a powerful weapon. Harry remembered that even Mrs. Weasley believed them when they said he was dating Hermione.

All in all, Harry couldn't be happier when all of the trials were finally over. The whole farce went on for almost a week; the whole day and every day.

(...)

Exhausted, unhappy and bitter, he decided he deserved a few drinks in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the bartender tended to keep you alone if he saw you were in a bad mood and he knew how to ensure privacy for Harry. It was all he needed.

Once he flued into the unsightly inn, as graceful as ever, he saw the most unexpected guest helping himself with Merlin knows which fire-whiskey. Even if red hair wasn't enough to recognize him, the absence of one ear would suffice.

"George," he clapped remaining twin at his back, harder than he intended, and forced him to spit his last sip.

"Blimey, you moron," he jumped on his feet, narrowing his red, drunken eyes in order to recognize Harry.

"Oh, it's you," he said then, settling down on his chair.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Just haven't seen you in a while," Harry responded, taking one of the free chairs and motioning Tom for 2 whiskeys.

"You would if you bothered coming over," drunk Weasley scolded him with a slight frown. Harry was just about to answer when George started talking again.

"It's just the whiskey talking out of me, s'alright. That you didn't visit, I mean. Ron's being prat 'bout it, Ginny's all hysterical and mom's sure you don't eat enough, but the rest of us gets ya. Where you're comin' from, that is," he explained and Harry nodded, with some relief showing on his face just as Tom brought them the whole bottle.

"You deserve it, boys," he told them quietly and rushed away before Harry or George could pay for it. The two of them sat in there in silence for a while, sipping themselves a generous amount of alcohol.

"Didn't know you left the room," Harry pried.

"Angelina came. Dragged my self-pitying ass out," he responded shortly and changed the topic.

"I've been to the shop too. Ron's been around helping as much as he can. Not very imaginative, that one," he joked, but the effects didn't quite reach his eyes, "Anyway, I've seen a lot of people in Diagon. Those who were with us and no one has seen you around."

"Yeah, I'm mostly at home, preparing for NEWTs," he said, sounding lame even to himself as George chuckled.

"Sure, and I'm thinking about a career in the ministry. Seems like the bottoms of the cauldrons are getting too thin again..." he trailed as Harry punched him in the shoulder, causing him to laugh even louder.

"Lay off, you prick," he said, without any real venom in his voice, "I just don't feel up to hanging out. With all the people looking at me anywhere I go."

"Mm, that gets old real quick, I reckon," George agreed, "Say, any of the rumors from the ministry are true?"

"What rumors?"

"They say you gonna for an auror, that Kingsley offered you position without training and so."

"What? No. I'm not working for ministry any time soon," Harry said in disbelief," Just doing a favor for Kingsley. Now that trials are done, I won't set my foot there anymore."

"Right. I thought so, but you never know," he said and the two of them fell into another comfortable silence, each of them in their own thoughts.

"George?" Harry finally started.

"Yeah?"

"D'you think we've won?"

"Yeah, sure," George started, his voice filled with emotion, disgust and sarcasm, "I've won a pretty, wooden coffin at the graveyard. A whole lot of them, too. The hell was there to win? S'not like we had much to begin with."

"We were happy?" Harry offered, but George just scoffed.

"You've bought happiness for Fred and me so the two of us were, but others? You? Merlin, Harry, I've watched you for years and I don't think I remember you being happy. Maybe that first Christmas at Hogwarts, when we charmed those snowballs to chase Quirrell around," he said with a fond smile and Harry smiled too. It was his first real Christmas. Everything was so good back then, but George was right. Every next year was harder, and there was always more stuff to cope with.

"You reckon we are going to be happy one day?" Harry asked, almost desperately, but George shook his head.

"I don't think we were meant to be happy," he said after a few seconds of thinking.

"You know, back in the Hogwarts, when everything went bonkers, Lee and I were fighting this guy with a hood and we somehow managed to overpower him. We threw him back hard and he landed at those bloody spiders, but you see, at that moment, his hood fell off and we saw this ordinary guy whose gaze was completely focused, imperiused for sure. They started to eat him, those spiders, and at that moment his eyes went normal for a second, he broke out of it, I reckoned. His eyes widened as he started screaming, pleading for life, crying and shit, we just stood there watching as they ripped him apart. A guy whose only sin was that he wasn't strong enough to fight the curse. We killed him, Lee and I. We killed his dreams, probably ruined his family too because we had no other option," he spoke as tears started to appear on his face and Harry listened in silence, not wanting to interrupt him.

"No one is supposed to witness something like that. No one! Yet we've seen it. We, the DA, and everyone who stayed behind. Even those under-aged kids who sneaked back in to fight seen the worst of it, but they shouldn't. We should've play quidditch, chase birds and just enjoy life, be normal kids, you know?" Harry just nodded, unable to speak.

"How can we be normal after that? How can we be happy?"

"So what do we do?" Harry asked, no one in particular, but George responded nonetheless.

"We ensure that the next generations don't have to go through the same crap we did. Kingsley should make a good job out of it, once everything's fixed," he said, but Harry wasn't so sure about that. Still, he kept his doubts for himself, and once again he remembered Rookwood's little speech.

Have they won?

(...)

The next morning was hell. Hangover hit him hard and not even Kreacher's potions could help with his headache. He took another sip of his tea, which was heavily laced with pain-numbing potion, hangover potion, and calming draught.

Kreacher didn't like that he added his own potions into the combination, but they helped. A bit.

Draco, the bastard, caught him unprepared so he, for some reason, has agreed to play a host for friends Draco invited over. It would be weird to spend his time with Slytherins around, but maybe that was what he needed; the change of the environment.

Narcissa too wasn't happy with his state and she berated him over and over about misuses of potions and alcohol. After half an hour of her rant he has had it enough.

"Alright, alright, for fuck sake, it won't happen again," he said loudly, raising his hands in defeat. Narcissa crossed her arms, raised her chin, and gave him a superior look.

"You better remember your promise, young man!" she said and before he could ask what promise she was talking about, she already left the room. Cursing softly under his breath, he quickly followed her. There was no way in hell he would let them drill him like this without getting anything in return.

Once he caught them, he roughly stabbed the air with his wand, forcing all doors to close themselves.

"Alright. Draco, you can invite your friends over and Narcissa, I'll keep potions and minimum, but the two of you are going to meet my godson," he said firmly and when they both opened their mouths he quickly interrupted, "No excuses! I won't let history to stay in the path of my family. You Blacks and your stubbornness! I've had enough of it."

They stood in silence for a few moments, before Draco finally broke it.

"Umm, Harry?"

"YES?" he snapped back.

"Can you release the charm from the doors?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh."


	5. Chapter 5

November_ 1997._

The meal was fabulous, as usually was the case when Harry visited Andromeda and Teddy, his godson. It wasn't like at Weasleys, where Molly preferred to stick to simple but delicious dishes, nor like in Hogwarts, where elves made wonderful, but too English food.

It was good kind of different though, because Andromeda was a classy woman, a true Black and therefore her meals were classy too. To be truthful, Harry had no idea what he had eaten half of the time, but he savored them nonetheless because they were truly among the best dishes Harry ever had.

Harry, once he got over the resemblance between Andromeda and her vile sister, Bellatrix, got fairly well with the older woman and their meals were usually filled with laughter and joy, mostly centered around the youngest member of the household.

On the one hand, Teddy was the cutest baby Harry has ever seen; always happy, with the same innocent expression on his ever-shifting face because he got the same unique talent his mother had. He was the endless source of entertainment and Harry and Andromeda happily bonded over their love for him.

On the other hand, he was an ever-present reminder of those who were no longer among them. Of a fierce young auror who always did what was right instead of what was easy and of the bravest werewolf that ever lived who faced darkness for the very same people that avoided him and mocked him his whole life because of a single curse he had. Teddy was a reminder of a gentle and kind muggleborn who stole Andromeda's heart after whom he was named.

But, for Theodore Teddy Lupin, the two of them tried to ignore the pain his presence caused them and tried their best to give the kid all their attention and love they could. It hasn't always been easy though. When, in the first weeks of the peace, Harry escaped from the world and fought his own demons, and Andromeda was in a catatonic state due to loss of her whole family, the little boy was forgotten, but they both made it through it and were on their path to recovery.

Today, however, none of that mattered. Harry found the situation to be extremely entertaining, but it seemed like Andromeda didn't share his amusement so he continued to eat in silence, stealing glances toward their two guests.

Draco was openly gaping, not even trying to hide his fascination with the newly discovered aunt, and every half a minute or so his mouth made this strange motion, like fish do, in order to either ask or exclaim something, but no word was ever spoken.

Harry barely managed to hide his smirk as his cousin just did the same motion again, never noticing that his spoon missed the plate third time in a row.

Narcissa, on the other hand, looked torn. Whether she wanted to scold Draco for his rudeness, try to escape, or begin some kind of small talk, Harry didn't know, but he did know she did everything in her power to avoid her sister's eyes that hadn't stopped glaring at her for quite some time.

Once Harry got enough of it, he loudly cleared his throat, fully intent on making them family once again.

"You know, back at the end of the fourth year Dumbledore made this speech. I don't remember it much, but he said that we are strong as we are united and weak as we are divided," he spoke quietly, shifting his gaze over everyone present, excluding Teddy.

Andromeda's eyes softened then, and she gently squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"You're quite right," Narissa added. "Why, I remember our grandfather saying the similar..."

"OUR GRANDFATHER!?" Andromeda finally lost it, and started shouting at her younger sister, whose eyes widened in shock. Draco and Harry exchanged a look, shrugged, and continued to watch what was the beginning of the shouting match.

It took them a whole hour to say everything they wanted, to vent it all out, and once they were done Harry watched them with a fond smile. They embraced each other, both with tears in their eyes, and apologizing to each other.

To this point, Harry had no idea what for they were apologizing, but he didn't care either for his goal for the evening was fulfilled. Two newly reconciled sisters now traded stories over the cup of the tea while Draco played with his little nephew, not a trace of disgust on his face because of the Teddy's origins.

Harry sipped his coffee, laced with a minimal dose of fire-whiskey, and had a hopeful thought. Maybe it wasn't all that bad. Maybe there is still a chance for everything to work out. Maybe...

(...)

Or maybe not, Harry bitterly thought, as he watched Kingsley ranting about the issues ministry had. Harry had no idea why he was here, but he didn't find the strength to refuse the invitation he got. It was who he was, he guessed, and so here he was.

"What about the money we collected on trials?" Diggory asked, bags under his eyes even bigger than last time Harry saw him.

"It is not enough. Departments are a disaster, with no new employees and dozens still missing," Kingsley sighed, glancing at Harry.

"No," he said even before they could ask.

"Didn't you say you want to become an Auror?" Kingsley tried nonetheless. "We could even promote you in a couple of years..."

"Based on what?" Harry bit back. "I had a streak of luck, good friends by my side, and prophecy hanging over my head. I wouldn't be any good as an Auror."

"Why do you think so?"

"I have problems with authority," Harry simply said, standing up. He was done with other people forcing him into situations he doesn't want to be part of. He was done with the ministry, and everything they represented.

"I'm going home to enjoy my well-earned rest and please don't interrupt me without good reason," he added, but Kingsley's face became ugly, his calm demeanor shifting in a second.

"You don't want to make enemies out of us," he quietly warned. "Help us do some good, and we'll do some good to you in return. It's simple as that."

"Good?" Harry asked in disbelief, not noticing his fingers found their way towards his wand. A few sparkles escaped its tip, and both Diggory and Kingsley looked a bit wary now. The cupboard in the back of the room shook slightly, and the lamp on the top of it fell down.

"You'll do me some good in return?" he asked again, his temper starting to act out. The temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees, the light itself retreated in the corners of the room, but Harry noticed none of it. His companions had their wands out by this point, but refused to raise them just yet.

A dark chuckle escaped him, and even Harry himself didn't recognize himself in that moment. All of that studying with the portraits of Blacks changed something in him, he realized, and all he could think about was the words they all repeated to him. Blacks have no fears, Blacks don't bow, Blacks don't compromise.

"You'll become my enemies?" he wasn't done yet. The rush of power gave him the strength to continue. Was this the addiction Dumbledore spoke about? Was this the making of Dark magic Blacks liked so much? If it is, it isn't half bad as he expected. It was clear to him in that moment that he was one in charge here, and that his words would be the last.

"So be it," he whispered. "I didn't bow to Lord Voldemort himself. What makes you think I'll bow to you?" He ignored their shudders when he said the name, waited for a few moments to see if they were about to respond, and once he was satisfied he turned around and left the office.

He never noticed his black cloak menacingly floating behind him as he made his way towards the apparition point. He never noticed heavy, oppressing aura around him that made everyone to stay away from his path. He never noticed awed looks by younger ministry employees that remembered him from Hogwarts and barely recognized confident, powerful man that walked through the ministry like he owed it.

It became his tradition, it seemed, to finish up in the Leaky Cauldron every time he had to go in the ministry. Gentle embrace of alcohol was always soothing, and it drove away all kinds of thoughts Harry preferred not to have.

It was pathetic, he knew, but he simply had no other ideas. Tom's pitying looks were even worse, and Harry had no strength to look the older man in the eyes when he brought him yet another drink.

(...)

He was tipsy when he apparated home, and Kreacher immediately brought him sobering potion.

"Master has guests. Master should collect himself and present the Noble house of Black accordingly," elf criticized him, running in circles around him.

"Guests?" Harry stupidly asked.

"Slytherins. Purebloods. Worthy guests," Kreacher answered, pushing yet another potion in Harry's hands. He vaguely remembered Draco's mentioning such an ordeal and sighed deeply, mentally preparing himself for dealing with people.

All the talk stopped when he entered the dining room, leaving them in the awkward silence. Harry took his time to study his guests. Parkinson looked everywhere but at him while Nott seemingly inspected his nails. Only Draco looked at him, somewhat defiantly, as if daring him to say something about his friends.

Harry, being honest to himself, had nothing against them for he never really knew them. Cursing himself for accepting Draco's offer, he sighed once again, and took his place at the table while casually waving his wand in complicated patterns.

"Might as well get a drink if we're going to sit in silence whole evening," he muttered as a bottle of fire-whiskey found its way from the cabinet and started pouring its liquid into four glasses. "Nott. Parkinson."

"Potter," they returned the greeting simultaneously as he already started sipping his drink.

"What have you been up to these days," he asked, making an eye-contact with Nott. He ignored the same weedy look he shared with his father whom Harry imprisoned not that long ago. Other boy studied him for a second, same blank look on his face he wore in Hogwarts, before replying.

"Same as Draco, I guess," he shortly said. Harry just raised his eyebrow, and he continued.

"No more Notts around, is there? It's upon me to clear the name and make something out of it." Harry nodded again knowing that for people like them their family name meant a lot, and he agreed with it to some extent.

"What about you?" he asked, and Harry took his time before he answered, took another sip, and decided to speak about the idea that bothered him for quite some time.

"Not much, to be honest, with all the money I've inherited," he started, ignoring Draco's scoff. "Been thinking about some kind of foundation lately, though."

It was clear that he surprised all of them, as his words left them in complete silence. Harry had no idea why they looked so disbelieving and confused, but waited for them to reset the conversation.

"What kind of foundation?" Parkinson finally asked, still avoiding his eyes.

"Umm, something to help people who lost everything in the war, loans for people in Diagon whose businesses were destroyed, and opportunity for those who are, ah, marked as undesirable by the ministry. Dunno, it's just an idea."

"Potter," Draco started slowly, sounding like he was about to disclose a secret to a kid. "There are no organizations in our world."

"What do you mean? There's ministry, Quidditch, umm, ICW and dunno..." he tried, and Draco laughed. Even Parkinson giggled a bit, but Nott remained serious.

"ICW and the ministries, sure, but that's it," Nott started. Seeing Harry's confused look he sighed and continued. "Quidditch is business, and everything around it is handled by the ministry."

"I don't get it."

"You know how muggles have all these different organizations to deal with different problems? Like judicial system is separated from legislative one, and both of them from executive power which is again separated to ministries offices and so on."

"Yeah?"

"Well, here you have only the ministry. Sure, it's divided into departments and there is Wizengamot, but in reality, there is just one dominion that controls everything, and I'm sure you can guess who that is."

"Go on," Harry said once he got the grasp of what Nott was trying to say. He never really thought about it, but now that he did, he realized just how much Fudge was able to do back in the time.

"Economy, education, even career options, health care... It's all in the hands of the minister. There are enough loopholes in our laws that minister, if he wishes, can have a total authority."

"I don't think that's true," Harry argued. "Dumbledore had power over Hogwarts and he had all those important titles."

"Potter... Harry?" Parkinson inquired. "Have you ever heard someone saying no to you after the fall of the Dark Lord?"

"What in the Merlin name that has to do with anything?"

"Everything, Potter," Nott took the word again. "Muggles base their power on money, position, armies and stuff like that, but here is a tad differently.

"Different?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco.

"We have no armies and money can take you only so far."

"I still don't get it."

"We don't base power on other things, Potter, because we have power," he emphasized his last word, and Harry finally understood. He suddenly felt the burden of the ancient wand that was hidden in his sleeve. It was, to some extent, eye-opening.

"What does it have with me wanting to open the foundation?"

"It's a threat to ministry. If your foundation takes better care of people's needs they will eventually find out that they don't need the ministry," Nott explained.

"And wizards don't just give money to each other. I mean, we're a small community and everyone knows where the gold is and ministry prefers it that way. There are no new businesses because there are no loans. Even Gringotts needs ministry approval to lend money," Draco added. "There are some exceptions when someone stumbles over new discovery or something."

"That's why purebloods flocked to the Dark Lord in the first place," Parkinson added her two knits, and it surprised Harry. Wasn't it all about their blood?

"What do you mean, Parkinson?" he asked.

"Call me Pansy," she said with a small smile, finally meeting his eyes. "They wanted to show their power, the recognition for their skills, the new world order where no magic is frowned upon or restricted. They wanted freedom of choice."

"Oh?" Harry breathed out, once again remembering Rookwood's words. Was this what he meant when he said stagnation? Harry felt like he had no idea what war was about in the first place.

"Strange, huh?" Nott asked him with an ugly grimace. "How we weren't able to choose our side nor we knew what was it all about."

"But blood," Harry started, but was quickly interrupted by Draco.

"Means a lot to us, sure, but it was also a good propaganda. Highly educated people like Dolohov, Barty Crouch, and Rookwood would never buy in that shit."

"Too bad that so many people did," Nott muttered. "We did too. And they say the Dark Lord was different back then. Charismatic, determined, genius, that's how grandfather saw him. But the pressure of Dark magic got to him, or something, and he became obsessed torturer, cruel megalomaniac, and child-killer."

Or something, Harry was sure. The more Horcruxes Tom made, the less human he became, both emotionally and physically. He remembered his looks from the diary; young Tom was handsome, but he later became... It was possible that his personality wasn't as ugly back then too, Harry mused. What if he ripped the last pieces of his humanity with his atrocious acts? At that moment Harry realized a horrible truth, the truth of a tortured soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle. He realized that a young, ambitious man might have been on the right path, but his fear of death and egoism caused it to crumble along the way.

"I've been wondering," Draco broke Harry out of his stupor, his eyes slightly red because of the alcohol. "About that speech you made back in Hogwarts."

Parkinson and Nott stopped their own dialogue when they heard the question Harry realized, and felt their calculating gazes watching him over. He just wiggled his fingers, willing it to come in his hand; the effect was immediate. Wand rushed to obey his master, happily sending few sparks away.

"About the wand?" Harry asked, his eyes still glued to the wand he used only at home.

"Yeah."

"Our wands were brothers. Twins even. We couldn't harm each other using them so he decided that he needed a new wand, a better one. Luckily, he wasn't that into wand lore," he said half-truth. He often did so these days, but the complete truth was out of options so he stuck to his lies. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"

"Sure, mate," Draco easily replied, shifting back in his chair and turning his attention back to his friends who were chatting as if nothing has happened. It seemed to Harry that Slytherins were considerate like that, strangely so.

Once they finished the second bottle, all of them visibly under its influence, Pansy stood up.

"Let's go dance somewhere," she slurred, her face hopefully. Harry exchanged the look with other boys, obviously not up to it, but it seemed that Pansy needed it.

"Among muggles?" Theodore asked, his lip slightly curling in distaste.

"Their inns always work," Pansy shrugged it away. "Their music is much more danceable."

"Do you have any place at mind?" Draco gave in with a slight sigh.

"Where we were the last time," she said, and, much to Harry's surprise, the other two nodded, already standing up. "I'll Side-Along you, okay?"

Harry managed just to nod, when she already started dragging him towards the exit. Only a couple of minutes later, after appearing in the dark street, crossing another, and confounding a security guy, they found themselves in a big, loud room. Harry couldn't see nor hear anything, due to huge amounts of smoke and ear-piercing music. Afraid that he might lost his companions, he held Pansy's hand as if his life depended on it.

Finally, she managed to drag him in the middle of what seemed to be a dancing podium which was packed with dozens of people moving in strange, but oddly fitting patterns. Harry stood stupidly there, looking around himself in disbelief, and trying to locate Theodore and Draco, but without any success. Drink somehow appeared in his hand, and Pansy leaned closer to him, their faces barely inch away. Her breath was cold, he noticed off-handedly, and recognized the mint.

"Dance with me, Potter," she breathed out, pulling him closer.

They danced.

(...)

Harry awoke with a groan; his head ached like never before. Then, a moment later the smell of the room attacked him. The sharp scent of fire-whiskey mixed with spilled beer and vomit. However, he could smell a nicer one too; just a hint of strawberry entered his nose and he smiled, not entirely sure why.

He slowly opened his eyes, finally noticing the extra weight on him, but was unable to inspect its source because light hit him too hard, worsening his already bad headache.

"Merlin," he muttered, trying to do something, but his slow, hangover mind couldn't comply with anything. He breathed heavily, preparing for another try to open his face when the memories started to come back; the blurry mix of loud music, sweat bodies, and atrocious amount of cheap and horrible beer.

After that, it wasn't that hard to guess who with he was cuddled, and it was confirmed as she squirmed a little, and came close to him. Strangely, he didn't feel anything negative about the whole ordeal; neither discuss nor repulsion. He reckoned they both needed it. He also knew that both of them knew that it wouldn't be enough and that the internal problems were just delayed rather than solved, but he would accept it any day.

"Kreacher," he whispered, his eyes finally adapting to the light. "Wake others, prepare us some breakfast and make it light, would you?"

"Yes, master," the old elf said. "Kreacher will see to it. Youngs sirs behaving unbecoming to their statures, oh if their ancestors see them, what would they say..."

Harry decided to sneak out of his bed without a word, and to hit the shower in hope that it would ease his headache, but knowing it was a fool's one. Once, he was presenting enough, he made his way towards the dining room; his guest already sitting around the table, their eyes bloody, and not in a hurry to meet his own.

They drank tea like that, in silence, for a few minutes. In some kind of unspoken agreement, no one of them tried to mention the last night. Narcissa was also there, her lips pursed in an obvious disapproval, but they were too hangover to care about an older woman. She will yell at Draco later, anyway.

So, foundation?" Nott finally started, his voice rough and quiet. A simple question attracted all of the attention in the room.

"What about it?" Harry asked, equally quiet."

"You don't hit me as a quitter," he chuckled, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit.

_"Anapneo," _Harry helped him, slightly smiling at the queasy face the taller boy sported once the spell cleared his throat. "Yeah, the ministry won't stop me, but still, it's just an idea."

Narcissa still pretended not to listen to them, as the three former Slytherins exchanged looks. Harry didn't recognize their expressions, as they seemed to have a silent conversation.

"I think it's a lovely idea," Pansy finally said, a small smile gracing her pretty lips. It was hard to imagine that this was the same cruel and petty girl he shared a class with just a few years ago.

"Worth a shot," Nott added, nodding.

"I can draft a financial plan. A tentative one, just to see how much you have at your disposal," Draco suggested. Harry looked at them once again, manipulative Slytherins, and pretended that he didn't see a thin smile on Narcissa's face. They are just looking for the chance, Harry finally decided, and he would be happy to give them one.

"Do it."

**Note: It took me a lot of time to finish this chapter, to be honest, and even now, I'm not happy with it so sorry about that. It's just that I'm trying to express some of my own frustration through this story so if some political or magical stuff doesn't make sense to you, well, deal with it. Also, I spent a lot of time thinking about what places will Harry visit later and what will do there and so on and on and on. So long, I'm pretty sure about other magical schools and the places I mentioned in the 1st chapter. That's all from me. Bye.**


	6. Chapter 6

_February 1998._

The whole idea behind the foundation sounded much simpler in Harry's mind than its execution was. It demanded a tremendous amount of work, and Harry threw himself into his new project with gusto, completely disregarding every other aspect of his life. He consulted with the portraits, read numerous books about the economy, poked around the ministry to get needed data, and pestered Draco about the numbers over and over again.

Once he familiarized himself with the basics of it, he started to realize how different the two worlds actually were, muggle and magical ones. Sure, they shared some of the same economic problems like monopoly, but other than that, they were fairly different.

For instance, Harry was surprised to find out there was no such thing as mass production in their world. Every item, good, or product was personally charmed, enchanted, and designed by a witch or a wizard, and that pretty much explained the reason behind higher prices of brooms or rarer potions. It also explained the great variety between seemingly the same items, giving society a broad choice if one were in a need of the specific product.

Another thing that caught him out of his guard was the realization that there was no inflation in the magical world because, well, gold was gold, and its worth hasn't changed for centuries. There was a limited supply of it, and therefore the ministry was fully aware of how it was distributed among the people and able to track it accordingly. Funnily enough, the only problem with their currency was trading it off for muggle money, for goblins had no use for the pieces of paper muggleborns brought into their world, but were conditioned by the law to have an exchange rate. It was the constant loss for the bank and goblins couldn't do anything about it because of another set of laws that forbid magical creatures to have any part in the muggle economy. It sucked for goblins, Harry concluded at the end.

Import and export were practically non-existent, as magic allowed them to grow and bred most of the needed potion and wand ingredients, with a few exotic plants and animals being exceptions. Sometimes brooms and newer, unique products were traded, but countries tended to have a steady chain of supply to take care of all of the needs of the society.

Because of such poor worldwide connections, Harry found out, new discoveries and old magics were also hidden from most of the world, as ministries liked to keep their secrets, books, and spells tightly close, and almost jealously guarded them against the rest. It was no surprise that Riddle came off as such a strong wizard, with all the traveling he did in his youth, and Harry was sure that his past enemy learned all there was to.

With a sigh, Harry closed the latest book he studied, thinking about the course of the action. It took him a lot of time, months even, but he believed everything was prepared for his endeavor. Except, of course, for the most important parts of it. He needed ministry permission to buy a business that might help him with the foundation, he needed to run the whole thing with the goblins, and he had to bully his friends into accepting to be a part of his project.

It was a simple idea. He will buy a potion-making business, employ few competent potion masters to actually keep the thing running, and bring him some sort of a profit. On the other hand, he will employ as many of his friends as he could, and his reports will be filled with expenses that don't exist. That expenses and imaginary salaries his friends would receive would actually be Harry's money, taxed, spent in the eyes of the ministry. In reality, however, the money would just go from one vault to another, minus the taxes, and Harry would be free to use it to do some actual good.

He intended to split his foundation into two parts; each of which will deal with a different problem. One part is to be free-interest loans, intended for those who wanted to repair their shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade or start a new, modest business. The other part would deal with the most unfortunate amongst them, such as ones whose wands were broken, who lost everything, or were bitten during the war.

"Kreacher," Harry finally yelled, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come.

"Yes, master?" the elf immediately responded.

"I need clean robes, dangerous ones," he replied, knowing that elf would know what he meant.

"Master is visiting the minister?"

"Only if I have to," he muttered. "I'd probably be able to sort it out without him, though."

(...)

Boy, how wrong he was.

It seemed like the whole ministry had the same orders: 'Do not allow anything to Harry James Potter.'

How convenient for Kingsley.

Harry went to three different offices, he shouted, pleaded and threatened, but to no avail. Some officials claimed he was in the wrong place, and helpfully pointed him to the next office, others refused to let him anywhere without an appointment and some simply ran away, insisting their break is about to begin.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out, however, and Harry knew he wouldn't move forward without Kingsley. Defeated and angry, he made his way towards his office and readied himself for another political round of nonsense, emotional blackmail, and elaborate coercion.

To make it all worse, the bastard made him wait for a full twenty minutes.

"Come in, Harry," the older man said jovially, large, obviously fake smile plastered on his face. "Sit down, please."

"I'd rather stand," he responded coldly, and Kingsley's smile dropped for a second.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and sat down. He took his time to prepare himself a drink and force Harry into the open. Harry recognized the tactic as Dumbledore often used it; using an uncomfortable silence as a way to force your interlocutor to begin the conversation. Harry didn't mind it, though, as he never really understood what one gained with it.

"Do we have a problem, Kingsley?" he asked bluntly, tired of all the bureaucracy he had to endure that day.

"I don't know, Harry. Do we?" the minister raised an eyebrow, his smile gone.

Harry smiled humorlessly and sat down. Harry could play that game too. "I got one, to be honest.

"Oh?" Kingsley responded, a hint of mock in his voice. "How convenient. I have a problem too."

"Was about to buy potion business, reckoned to build something out of the Potter name," Harry continued in a friendly manner as if he hadn't heard the minister. "Imagine my surprise when I found out how much paperwork it demanded, heh."

"Potions?" Kingsley asked, a genuine surprise in his tone. "Weren't you abysmal at them?"

"I'm doing it mostly to spite Snape," Harry chuckled and Kingsley joined him. For a short moment, it was like it used to be, but some things weren't to last, and the duo quickly straightened themselves, putting on serious expressions.

"That can be easily arranged," he said, writing it in his notes. Now to the hardest part, Harry braced himself.

"And what does ministry want from the resident savior," Harry drawled. Bless Malfoys and their speaking patterns for one could learn a lot only by listening to them.

"To serve as a liaison with Goblins. The previous office basically doesn't exist, and if you managed to get your vaults back, well..."

"Well?"

"They won't let us in," Kingsley simply replied.

"Oh?" Harry replied in the same tone Kingsley used just a few moments prior and smiled just like Riddle did with Slughorn all those years ago. Charming to the hilt, but eyes hard as steel. Kingsley ignored it altogether.

"There must be more vaults goblins didn't hand over when we requested it," he explained. "We want to come in, make an inventory, claim what is ours, and get out of their hair."

"You still have gold problems, huh?" Harry tried to sound sorry but utterly failed if Kingsley's narrowed eyes were any sign.

"Unfortunately," he uttered.

"How's the fixing of Hogwarts going?" Harry asked, and Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

"It will be done just in time to open in September. Professors and volunteers are doing a wonderful job," he allowed small talk, but Harry noticed traces of wariness in his eyes.

"And Diagon?" It would do good to fish out some information as he was already here. Better to make the most out of it.

"It depends on goblins," Kingsley looked at him pointedly. "As you can see, everyone would benefit from a peaceful solution."

"Sure, everyone," Harry muttered, wondering when exactly 'everyone' became the ministry and their supporters. He didn't see how would goblins benefit by letting them take gold out of every vault they deemed fit.

"I'm glad we understood each other," Kingsley stood up, offering him his hand, and Harry accepted it.

"Of course, minister."

Harry barely managed to restrict himself from stopping at Leaky Cauldron, as he made his way towards the Gringotts. When he arrived in front of it, he noticed a small group of wizards standing in front of the entrance, muttering something among themselves, and sending nasty glances towards a guards in front of it. Harry noticed there were six guards where usually only two were situated, and hummed.

"What's this all about?" he asked the closest wizard, an old man in dark red robes who was gripping his wand a tad too strongly, as was evident by a random sparkle that escaped its tip.

"Greedy bastards won't let us in. One at the time, they said," he replied distastefully, never taking his eyes away from the closest goblin. Harry politely nodded along, noticing equally hateful faces around him.

"They gave any reasons for doing so?" Harry asked again, making eye contact with one of the guards who curtly nodded to him, and went somewhere behind.

"Security," the wizard simply replied, not providing any additional information. Harry shrugged, looked around himself one more time, and went toward the guard that has just returned.

"You are expected," goblin hopefully said once they were alone while Harry pretended not to hear annoyed shouts and mutters the public provided due to his premature entrance.

He still wasn't sure why his relationship with unlikeable creatures was as good as it was, but didn't want to think so much about it. As long as it works, who is he to question their reasons. He felt pretty safe too, as he knew that old goblin couldn't break his promise.

An ancient goblin was in the exact same pose as he was the last time Harry visited, going over some reports in front of him, and Harry patiently waited to be acknowledged. He also noticed extra measures of protection around his office. A deep unsettling feeling in his stomach told him he was in the presence of extremely powerful wards which, if Harry's hunch was correct, didn't like wizards in its reach.

"What have we done, Mr. Potter, to have to endure your attention once again?" the goblin asked, not raising his head. "Are you here just to waste more of my limited time?"

"Hardly," Harry scoffed, but old goblin still hasn't graced him with his full attention. "The ministry sent me to negotiate that impasse of yours."

This finally attracted goblins attention, and he stopped scribbling down, slowly raising his sallow-skinned head. "And what does the minster wish to do with us?"

Harry entertained his false curiosity, sure that he knew exactly what was all this about. "To be honest? He wants you to stay in line while he pluckers as much gold as he can."

"Typically," he muttered, but his eyes were filled with so much hate that Harry almost shuddered. "It won't do, Mr. Potter. It won't do at all."

He stood up, put his hand behind his back, and started to slowly pace back and forth.

"Wizards are blessed with such a short memory, I'm afraid," he started what Harry thought would be a nice, long speech. "But goblins don't forget easily. Neither do we forgive, and if it means violence so be it. What you have seen at the entrance is just the beginning, if history is any sort of a teacher, and I believe it is. I may be old, but I have enough strength for one last march for the benefit on my nation, enough wisdom to negotiate yet another deal and enough spirit to see it come trough!"

"I believe you," Harry decided after a short pause. "And my memory may be short, but I still remember our deal."

"I'm glad," the goblin nodded in recognition, and took his place one again. Harry knew there was nothing else to say about the topic, and to be honest, he didn't particularly care about the outcome of their power-struggle.

"There's another matter I wished to discuss, though, a personal issue to say," Harry changed the topic and pushed his draft towards him.

He accepted Harry's draft, and it took him just a few minutes to go over it and spot the catch Harry carefully hid in there. It wasn't for naught that goblins took care of the bank. What he thought about it, however, was carefully hidden behind his blank face.

"Mmm, interesting," he said as he put the papers down, his long fingers rhythmically hitting the table. "I'm sure you are aware of how many laws directly forbid these kinds of schemes so I'll not fret over the morality of such a course. I will, however, mention some obvious flaws of this plan of yours..."

He went on and on, picking up little mistakes Harry didn't even realize were there, pointing out improvements and recommending people who might help or benefit from his idea.

"Oh," Harry breathed out, once the goblin was done, and leaned back in his chair, thousand little thoughts going through his brain.

"Oh, indeed," Goblin muttered, taking a long pause to take a sip of his beverage. "Interesting thing, though, is that all your problems can be easily solved if you had a competent financial advisor at your side, one that also happened to be in charge of the bank.

"Oh," Harry said again, the picture slowly coming to his mind, and goblin's helpfulness finally making some sense. "Are you interested in such a position?"

"Mr. Potter," goblin looked him sternly under his glasses. "Do you think of me as of partner in crime? Or maybe as of a renegade? A petty, law-breaking swindler?"

"N-No?" Harry hesitated, and old goblin nodded.

"Then we can talk numbers."

(...)

When Harry walked out of the building, the sight in front of him was unnerving; a couple hundred of wizards and switches stood in front of it, yelling and shouting, demanding gold and entrance rights, doing odd pieces of magic to create more of the chaos.

An unhappy group of Aurors stood in the back of the crowd, muttering among themselves and pointing out various persons among the mob, but not willing to interfere. Every few seconds, a new one apparated in, but still, their numbers weren't as half as big as they would have to be to contain such an angry group.

On the opposite side, in front of the gates that were now closed, Harry noticed, stood a fully armored and armed group of goblins. They looked just as angry, showing their sharp teeth and pointing their spears forward. They also sported nasty grins, as if pleased with a possibility of spilled blood.

"Open the gates!" one obviously drunk lad yelled. Harry doubted he even owned a vault in Gringotts.

"Fuck 'em up, shall we?" another optimist shouted, much to the approval of the others.

"Give us some o' gold, will ya?" an older lady, with thick accent added, sending yet another red spell high in the air.

Harry quickly retreated from the front, trying to get through unnoticed, but it wasn't to be, as one of the Aurors quickly approached him. He recognized one of the older Aurors of the corps; Gawain Robards.

"Mr. Potter," he nodded curtly. "What's the situation?"

Harry watched him dimly for a second before he remembered he should've acted as a liaison for the ministry. Then, he chuckled, looked around himself, and raised his hands, indicating the crowd.

"What does it looks like?"

"Another fucking rebellion," Auror said grimly, glancing towards the closest Goblin. Harry was surprised to see such a hate on his face. "I gotta report back."

"You think so?" Harry followed him, curious about the situation.

"They're blood-thirsty little bastards, those goblins, and you won't see 'em happy till they spilled some wizard blood 'round here. It's always been that way," he said, but Harry didn't quite believe him. He should've been used to all the hate in the magical world, but they managed to surprise him yet again, much to his dismay. Why didn't old goblin warn him what awaited him outdoors, the bastard?

"Anyway," Harry said, glad to finish his part of a deal. "He said he won't be letting wizards in any time soon. Said that he's prepared for the violence too."

"That so?" Auror granted, looking even graver than before. "What 'bout their demands?"

"Uh, something along the lines of letting them alone, doing their business, you know, the usual."

"Fuckin' shits," Auror grunted again, and Harry decided he have had it enough. He politely nodded to the older man and retreated deeper into the alley. He made his way towards George's shop, and found the one-eared Weasley in the front of it, with an elegant pipe in one hand, and a beer in another.

"Quite the spectacle, innit?" he broadly smiled to Harry, eyeing the crowd that kept getting bigger. He quickly found another beer somewhere in his coat and pushed it in Harry's hands. "Haven't seen such a show ever since Ron dreamed mom forgot to make a breakfast."

Harry just chuckled, opening the can, and murmured his thanks. More ministry officials continued to apparate in, hurriedly running around, trying to separate drunken fights and unauthorized spellwork, but to no avail. In all the turmoil, Harry doubted they noticed that the number of goblins was slowly, but surely increasing.

"Oh, this is going to be a treat," George chuckled as one of the wizards throw his wand away and jumped on the closest Auror, swinging his arm as hard as he could.

"You reckon they gonna finish the job for the goblins?" Harry asked, smiling as well.

"You know, you might be right," Weasley accepted the joke with a crooked smile of his own He squinted his red eyes to see better, and burped loudly in the process of it.

"Ain't this whole scenario pathetic," he added after, a bit more seriously. "Two drunks, watching a whole group of drunks fighting among themselves, as the violent, bloodthirsty half-breeds calmly observe."

Harry decided not to answer as he took another sip, but smiled nonetheless. They could manage to be pathetic sometimes, he reckoned.

"I was in there just before, you know," Harry changed the topic.

"You're shitting me!" George yelled in disbelief, his eyes widening.

"Honestly," Harry smiled. "And their main bugger settled a thing down for me."

"What thing?" he asked curiously, his eyes still cemented on the angry mob.

"You see, I've got this idea..."

"Oh, shit," George interrupted him, going for his coat once again, and taking yet another alcoholic drink out of it.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked, annoyed with a ginger.

"Harry Potter got an idea," he trailed. "When in Merlin's name has that gone well?"

"No, seriously," Harry was stubborn. "This is a game-changer."

George finally seemed to get the grasp of himself, and straighten up. "Go on."

"Alright, so I've got this idea..." he explained it all to George who became even more serious as Harry continued to talk about it, and by the end of it, he had a strange glint in his eye, as if he was about to play a particularly nasty prank on someone he didn't like.

"We ough to sober the fuck up if we're about to become serious, mate," he finally commented. He was right, Harry knew, and nodded along, focusing his attention back to riot going on.

"Yup."

"Another beer?" George asked, noticing his empty can.

"Sure."

(...)

By the end of the day, angry folk came to their senses, and Aurors were able to dispel the crowd in a quiet manner, but still, a whole lot of them went home poor and rather unhappy.

Once alone, the ministry officials created some sort of camp for themselves, and various specialists started to apparate in so there could be seen a bunch of teams of obliviators, ward-breakers, and even one Magical Catastrophe squad.

The goblins didn't take kindly to the whole ordeal, and watched them proceeding with narrowed eyes and ready weapons, creating quite an impressive troop. Anyone with a muggle background would be highly reminded of Roman-style war structures and forms. Most of all, the group looked rather dangerous.

One particularly optimistic (or stupid) ward breaker tried to approach the massive gates of Gringotts, in order to make a closer inspection of wards surrounding the giant building, but the poor chap was quickly struck down with an impressively precise arrow to the knee, and Aurors rushed to help him retreat.

In retaliation, one of the Aurors tried to surprise goblins and conjured a wide, concentrated pillar of angry, green flames that greedily rushed towards the troop, licking their shields and armors, but to no avail. Once exhausted, that Auror retreated, his head bowed in a defeat, and goblins formed even tighter columns.

They tried a few more spells, probing the defenses of the ancient time around the bank, and observing the effect they made when colliding with goblin-made armor. Goblins shot a few more warning arrows, obviously not wanting to start an open battle just yet, and even used an impressive bit of goblin magic that shook the ground rather viciously, but it seemed to be just an intimidation tool.

The conclusion was grave to the wizards; all those myths about Gringotts being impenetrable were true to at least some extent, and at the end they had to admit their defeat. For a day, at least.

All in all, it was rather anti-climatic scenario, but nonetheless, it would be remembered in the history of magic as the beginning of yet another goblin rebellion.

Neither side noticed a pale shade of professor Binns nearby, dutifully taking notes and preparing yet another exquisite lesson for the future students.

**AN: To begin with, you may want to ignore the last sentence of the chapter, but I couldn't resist writing it :). On the more serious tone, the pace is still slow, with more world-building and preparing the scene for what is about to come and is likely to stay that way, but I'll do my best to add more dialogue, action and so after I say everything I think is needed to be said. I think it will take some time for me to write the next chapter because I'll have a mixed gathering in it, and stuff like that takes time. It kinda is a spoiler, but it was the obvious next step; to share his plans with a crew.**


	7. Chapter 7

_February 1998._

"Harry, dear," Narcissa said hesitantly. He didn't look up from his armchair which still wasn't as good as Dumbledore's, but was going there. Instead, he observed a golden coin in his hand, thinking about its origins.

That coin represented much to him, and he knew others thought the same. It was a token of how much they gave up, how hard they trained, and it represented what they all believed in. He had no doubt that, if called, DA members would respond immediately, always eager to help their leader.

He doubted anyone noticed the charm on them wasn't exactly the same anymore. After much of probing and dabbling at it, Harry finally managed to change it into what it was now. As opposed to normal protean charm, where all of the coins would match the changed one, now Harry could pick which coins he wanted to change and relay his message to.

In a twisted way, he created his own mark, whether he wanted to admit it or not, but saw no harm in doing so. After all, the whole idea behind the galleons came from Death Eaters and their mark. Hermione did admit it at some point.

"Harry!" Narcissa tried again, more forcefully, and he leveled his head up.

"Yes?" he responded, slightly tilting his head on one side.

"Well, the thing is..." she hesitated. "I couldn't help but overhear you and Draco talking about a certain plan of yours."

"And?" he asked again.

"And I'm scared!" she raised her tone slightly, crossing her arms. "I felt the same dread when Lucius started talking about his meetings, organizations, and marks." He opened his mouth to reply, but she interrupted him.

"No, Harry, just listen to me as to someone who's already been there. The things you're playing with are dangerous, and it's always harmless at the beginning, but what will you do when Aurors arrive to close you down? What will you do when ministry start pushing their influence onto you?"

Harry kept his eyes fixed on her as she ranted on, about the dangers, fears, and he could understand it. She was, always were, and always will be a mother and her thoughts will always be towards the safety of her only son.

His face was collected, calm, as he thought about her words, his piercingly emerald eyes making Narcissa nervous. He took his time to formulate an answer. He often did these days, as he realized rashness and bravery he possessed in his youth won't serve him as well anymore.

"It's Draco's choice, and you cannot take it away from him," he finally said, his voice quiet, but with a sense of finality to it. "I'm sorry, but I can't stand idly at the side and watch as our world goes to bollocks. I just can't. As long as there is something I can do, I'm gonna try my best, and if my friends want to lend me a hand in doing so, who am I to stop them."

"Harry," she pleaded again, adding all of her emotions into that one word. The word felt like a mountain on Harry's soul and he felt his eyes softening.

"I'll do my best to keep him safe," he replied, trying to keep his voice straight. She stood there for a second more, accepting offered terms with a barely visible fall of her shoulders, and finally nodded. No more words were spoken as she retreated away, in the solace of her room, to mourn yet another generation of wizards lost to the broken ideals.

Harry didn't mind it though, as he knew she hadn't experienced the full terrors of magic. Pureblood witch had it all, and while he didn't hold it against her, he knew her outlook to the world will always be flawed because of it.

Giving it no more thoughts, he pulled a golden galleon from his pocket once again, and with a hardened expression of defiance, he pressed it, pouring his magic into it, forcing it to change and invite his friends over.

So it begins.

(...)

They all came, and Harry was happy to see them, but he was no longer the same man they knew just a year ago and he could see much more now. Neville's handshake was too limp, defeated, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Susan's cheeks were too red, eyes too hazy and the dark spots under her eyes told an entirely new story to Harry. The story he knew far too well, with the main characters being sleepless nights, and potions. She held too tightly to him when they hugged and Harry tried to pour all he could into it, hoping that it would help just for the one night.

Hannah's and Ernie's expressions were similar to his own; a genuine happiness to see their friends, but same haunted look they shared due to their history and every-day struggles.

Harry just recently found out that the remainder of DA paid a hefty price for their defiance in their 7th year, under the mighty hand of Riddle's government. Once Death Eaters and their regime realized they couldn't find them in school, they decided to take their pleasure in putting pressure on their families. So once the adrenaline of their victory faded, and they returned home they found the worst possible picture imaginable; their houses and manors burned to the ground, their families butchered, their gold vanished. All of it under the faded remains of Dark Mark which mocked them from the sky, untouchable.

Harry allowed them to catch up, deciding not to force his way into the conversation. Not yet. He didn't comment on the visible tension between DA members and his new Slytherin friends. He pretended that he didn't notice glances Ron and Hermione kept sending in his direction. He just sat on his spot, at the head of the table, breathed deeply, and prepared mentally himself for what is about to come.

"You see it too, I reckon," he heard slurry voice behind him. Not bothering to turn around, Harry just nodded, but his favorite ginger continued anyway. "And to think these poor buggers managed to defeat the biggest dark army of all the times. What a joke."

"We ain't joke, George," he quietly responded, as his friend took the place next to him. "That's why I called them over."

"We are, buddy, but you're just hoping there is some fight left in them, right?"

"Fight?" Harry asked, more forcefully than he intended, but George didn't seem bothered by it. "Hardly. I just need their help. Your help!"

George scoffed, poured himself a drink, and said, "Yeah, right." Harry turned to him, trying to figure out more from his expression, but he looked as always; a crooked, half-drunk smile combined with slightly red eyes which held the sorrow in their depths.

"Anyway," Harry started again. "There's something I won't be telling 'em."

"Yeah?" George inquired, a bit quieter than before. Harry hesitated, glanced toward the others, and noticed more than one pair of eyes looking in their direction.

"Nevermind. We'll catch up later, okay?"

"Sure."

With that, in a sort of an unspoken agreement, his friends dropped their small talks and turned towards him, with a variety of feelings behind their wary eyes; some look intrigued, others confused, and some even scared.

He hated speeches, and especially giving them, but somehow that duty always fell on him. This time was different though, as it was him alone who choose to do so. Even so, it didn't mean it was any easier than it used to be. He remembered the speech he told to DA, and smiled nostalgically.

"Remember how I told you that every great wizard started like us, at the beginning? Back in the fifth year?" he asked, and waited for a second for the positive murmurs to end. He knew that Slytherins would easily catch up to what he means. "I reckon it was the truth, sure, but what I didn't tell you is what to do next to become great. To be honest I'm not sure if I knew it at the time."

"You offed You-Know-Who," Neville interrupted him, a clear question in his eyes.

"I did, and all of you helped me to achieve that. That snake didn't kill itself, did it? Anyway, what I'm trying to say here is that I thought that was it, right? We trained, we helped each other, and we triumphed because of it, because of the friendship we all share."

"That's nice of you to say," Susan smiled to him brilliantly, showing her perfect teeth, and she looked beautiful for the second, but the picture was ruined a second later by a glint in her eye. A far too familiar glint. He smiled back reassuringly, hoping he did it right, and cleared his throat, ready to continue.

"But it wasn't it," he changed his tone. It was much darker now, and the whole group shifted, slowly gravitating towards him. "I am no more great wizard than I used to be. Nor is either of you. Time passed, and while we licked our wounds the world continued on, not waiting for us. Once I was ready to step back into it, the same old struggles awaited me there; idiots from Knocturn kept trying to curse me in the back, just to see if they can. The ministry still wants me to do their dirty work, and the war just shifted towards the new target - goblins."

He made a pause, reaching for his drink and trying to drive off the tears that threatened to appear in his eyes. It was a cruel of him, he knew, to bluntly make them remember, but the times called for it, and he was never one to quit. No price is too big to achieve the peace they all deserve; in a brand-new world, where everyone would be happy. The words sounded strange in his mind, as if he already heard them, but he quickly dismissed it and put the glass down.

"Werewolves aren't having it good either," Hannah added hesitantly.

"What are you talking about?" Ernie turned his attention towards her.

"I met Seamus in the Diagon, and we chatted for a bit. He and Lavander are kinda together now, and so we talked about her, well, you know," she mimicked the scars Lavander had with her fingers. "She got some light symptoms, and to, dunno, get adjusted to it she started hanging with some of them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. This was new to him and he felt a string of sympathy towards the girl he barely knew, but shared the dorm with for whole six years.

"What's the problem with that?" Ron hotly asked, making Harry proud of his first friend. He grew so much during the last year.

"No, no, I didn't mean like that," Hannah raised her hands in defense. "The thing is that people around, those who got it bad, have bitten children and so, are organizing some kind of hunting parties."

"Are you telling what I think you are?" Harry asked through his teeth, not wanting to believe that people would sink that far.

"Every full moon," she quietly answered, turning her head down.

Harry instantly saw red. The anger he was holding in burst out violently. Disappointment, hate, sadness, all of it followed shortly, and he slammed the table hard, wanting to hurt himself. To calm down just for a moment, but it wasn't to be.

His, always chaotic, magic followed, and old oak table loudly cracked lengthwise causing everyone to jump off in surprise. A thick, purple smoke emerged from the newly created crack, and small, bluish flames started to lick what was left of it. It was an impressive display of accidental magic, but quickly realized what kind of magic it actually was.

Before others could react, he reached for his wand and curtly swished it, putting off the flames instantly. He, then, started to wave with his wand in the circles, just like Dumbledore and Slughorn did in that muggle house, and ashes, and broken parts hurried back where they used to be, recreating the table in a mere seconds. In the end, he stabbed with it forward, and all of the chairs were orderly sorted, just like they used to be before everyone stood up.

He did so without a word, not even thinking about what kind of the show he was presenting his friends with, but once he saw their astonished looks, he silently cursed. It didn't help when he realized that he wasn't holding his own wand, but rather an Elder wand. He knew that everyone present recognized it, having already seen it in the past.

He caught Theo's look for a second and saw many things in his dark, brown eyes. He saw the fire he didn't know existed in a weedy boy, a fascination, a wish for the repetition. Harry saw the pure desire.

"I'm sorry guys," he finally said, falling in his chair, and others, like they were hypnotized, followed his example. "I just can't understand their hypocrisy, I mean, everyone knows that Lupin fought with us."

"We aren't like muggles, Potter," Draco simply said, and Harry furiously looked at him, ready for another outburst, but George's reassuring hand on his own, under the table where no one could see it, saved him. Draco, however, seemed to notice it, and hurried to explain. "We live long lives, and have a long memory. Longbottom, Bones, Weasley, they can all confirm it."

He made an awkward pause, as if unsure if he should continue, but said at last, "Wizards don't forget. Wizards don't forgive.

The silence that followed was heavy, and Harry knew this was something only purebloods could understand. He raised his eyebrow, nodded for himself as he thought about the words, and made a decision.

"Those are good words. We won't forget," he stopped to look at each of them directly in the eyes, and everyone looked back. He didn't expect anything less from his friends. "We won't forgive."

The looks they gave each other warmed Harry's heart, and he had no idea why. It sounded like a promise, like a pledge, like a _threat._

George was first to come to his senses, and so he asked, "So what's the plan, Harry?"

"Right, the plan. So this what I thought..." he started to explain to them the real reason why he invited them over. He spoke long and in detail. He patiently listened to their questions and inquires and tried his best to answer. He held no secrets this time and told them about the vow he gave to the goblins, and the help they will receive from them.

They talked long into the night, forgetting about the time, and expressing their feelings on many different issues they could think of. When they were done, they retreated back to their homes, and left Harry with the promise they'll think about it some more, and prepare themselves for the new endeavor as best they can.

Harry counted it as a success. Not to mention that he put on a few more pounds, actually reaching a normal weight for his height, though still on the skinny side.

(...)

Harry read newspapers in a Leaky Cauldron, trying to read between the lines and figure how this whole goblin thing was actually going on. To sum it up, it was a disaster; people had no money, no place to live, and the worst of all, nothing to look forward to. The goblins held their ground and didn't give to any and every demand sent by ministry.

It was more of a cold war, with both sides gathering their strengths, and wondering about the power of their enemy, Goblins knew that wizards were superior to them in the open combat and dared not to start an open battle, but they also knew that ministry was heavily weakened by the most recent war.

Wizards, on the other hand, knew that they had no chance in conquering the bank without suffering too many casualties; something they couldn't afford. They also knew that goblins couldn't survive in their building forever, and so they cut off every possible exit in hope of starving them out.

It was the first wizarding siege in the history of goblin rebellions.

The rumors, however, were grave. There were whispers of green lights surging towards the goblins, light mentioning of goblins retrieving behind the walls, but not before sending more arrows into the ministry crowd. In the darkness of the alleys, words of dragged bodies from both sides were heard. Worst of all, there was a rather ugly gossip going around; the Wizengamot was pushing for the free use of unforgivable curses towards any non-human being.

Harry put the newspapers down, glancing towards a clock. One minute to go. He was pleasantly surprised a few days ago with a letter from Ron, in which he called him here so they could catch up. It wasn't like they weren't on the speaking terms anymore, but they kinda agreed not to bother each other until they are ready for such a thing.

In Harry's mind, that could only mean one thing. Ron wanted to talk about something serious.

Suddenly, he appeared in the fireplace, joined by the usual green flames of floor travel. He politely nodded to the beekeeper, ordered something, and dropped few silver coins on the counter.

"Harry, mate," he said with a wide smile, heavily dropping into the closest chair. "Been good?"

"Yeah, s'okay," he responded, trying to imitate his smile, but judging from the small frown on Ron's face, it didn't work that well.

"Listen, mate. I know it's being strange lately, but..." he started, but Harry immediately raised his hand and interrupted him.

"No, it's okay. I'm kinda glad to catch up," he said, his smile widening a bit, and Ron seemed to brighten too. In a boost of the better mood, the duo quickly started to chat, just like in the old days.

It was like a Sunday in Hogwarts when they didn't have any homework. Quidditch and girls, girls, and Quidditch. Harry had no heart to brag to him about Pansy, scared that poor chap might get a stroke. Just as they finished about the Chudley Cannons, Harry noticed the shift in Ron's eyes; they somehow got darker, and Harry was sure that the real point of their meeting is going to get in the open any time now.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, and in one swift motion finished his drink.

"Bloody hell," Harry agreed, noticing the tension rising.

"I know something's going on," he blurted. God bless Gryffindors and their bluntness.

"What do you mean?" Harry wanted to clarify.

"This whole foundation thing, and giving us those 'jobs'. Including Slytherins, planning with George Merlin knows what... Do I need to go on? I get it's something good you want to do here, but it feels wrong, you get me?"

"Wrong?" Harry asked calmly, hiding himself behind it."

"Yeah, wrong. Like when you went into that bloody forest without telling us!" he raised his voice, hardly poking Harry in the chest with his finger. "I'll go in the same hell Voldemort went for you, mate, but I want to know why! I deserve to know why."

And he did deserve it. It was the heart of their relationship. They had their ups and downs, but now they were past them, and if he couldn't' confide in his best mate, who else there is.

"I'm leaving, Ron," he said gently, his eyes slowly narrowing. He thought Ron would be gobsmacked, but his mate just nodded tiredly and waved for another drink. Harry didn't want to say more before Ron processed it.

"We already guessed it," he finally said, in a low voice. He sounded tired and defeated, but his eyes showed a deeper wisdom. The understanding. "Hermione and I talked about it, but she figured you wouldn't do it at the end. It all makes sense now."

"What do you mean?"

"This whole thing of yours, of course. You want to leave, but can't leave all this behind," he said, waving his hands in random directions, and Harry gaped. Those simple words hit right in the heart. He could never explain it, and yet Ron managed to do it so simply, even elegantly.

Ron, when he saw Harry's face, smiled knowingly and said, "O Harry, give me some credit. I've been your best mate for forever."

"Yeah, I guess you did," Harry replied, and couldn't help, but smile widely, his eyes wet.

"Don't be sissy, now," he said, but Harry noticed he couldn't look him in the eyes either, trying to subtly wipe his eyes. "I need to tell you something more, though."

"Okay?"

"That magic...what you did to that table," Ron started slowly, finally founding Harry's eyes. His voice was full of hesitation, worry, and doubt.

"I know," Harry decided to interrupt him swiftly.

"They don't say all those things about it for nothing," Ron tried again.

"Ron! I know," Harry stopped him again, and this time he didn't press it further. Ron looked him seriously, as if judging him, and finally nodded, seemingly happy with whatever he found on Harry's face.

They both took another sip of their drinks, enjoying the comfortable silence. Once the truth was out in the open, there wasn't much more they could say to each other. They knew that the presence of the other was enough. In their own way, this was a goodbye.

"Hey, Harry?" Ron asked him just before he was about to floo home.

"What's up?" he asked back, noticing that Ron looked quite uncomfortable.

"Could you, I don't know, send a letter here and there? You know how Hermione is, she'll worry."

"Oh come on here, you big, bad macho man," Harry said in a mocking tone, spreading his arms, and Ron hugged him without hesitation, in the middle of the pub. Harry didn't mind, though, as that was all the blessing he needed.

It was short but intense. Ron turned away without another word, nodded his goodbyes, and vanished in the same green flames he appeared in. Harry's smile slowly fell as he watched now empty fireplace. It was replaced with the hardened face of the survivor. The cold mask of the warrior. His eyes gleamed harder than ever, the wand in his sleeve slightly trembling, begging him to be used.

Harry closed his eyes, shook his head, and went home.

Only once he was in the safety of his room, all of the protecting charms in their place, he dared to inspect his old wand. He didn't want to warn anyone, but it felt odd these days, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Magic he was trying to learn these days started to affect him slowly, he understood it, causing all kinds of sudden urges from within. He could feel its stain flowing through his veins and demanding more. He could hear it singing every time he grabbed the Elder wand. It felt heavy, but Harry was no stranger to having to carry heavy burdens on his own. He was sure that this kind of magic would never be able to defeat his strong morale. He believed in his righteousness, just like he believed he would defeat Riddle, (Although he was prepared to die to accomplish it.) and he was prepared to use every tool possible to become a wizard his parents would be proud of.

His wand, however, seemed to disagree. Harry held it carefully, fondly even, as he spun it in his fingers. He frowned at it, confused and disturbed, not knowing where this was coming from.

There was no phoenix calming song coming from it. There was nothing.

It was his wand; it chose him all those years ago. It was eleven inches long, made of holly, and possessed a single feather from the tail of the phoenix, donated by Fawkes himself.

And now it was silently lying in his master's hand, empty and dead. Just a stick.

**AU: Okay, so I read everything I wrote so far multiple times, rewrote this chapter multiple times, and thought about how to continue this - multiple times. First thing is that I'm not sure if it is noticeable enough, but I imagined this fic to be entirely from Harry's POV. So everything I wrote, I did so believing I was Harry (lol). It doesn't need to be the truth, the correct way to go, the accurate state of things, but rather what Harry feels is so. **

**Another thing is that I prefer to write 'in the dark'. Meaning that I have nothing prepared, no character sheets, no outlined points... and I just do what I feel like. (Except that I follow dates from the first chapter) I'm saying that because there may be some inconsistencies because of it so I constantly go over my story to see if everything is going forward as it is supposed to go, and it kinda is.**

**Another, another thing is that this was never supposed to have an overly light tone, but rather going further and further in the abyss where I can we can see Harry changing into a man we see in the first chapter. It all started as a fluke, but now that I took my time and decided to finish it, I'm gonna do the whole shitload of scenes that might not be needed for the story, or even matter, because this is going to be my first, fully finished fic and I want to remember it fondly.**

**Another, another, another thing is that, in order to get into the character and break out from the dead-end I was in, I kinda had a few glasses of wine over the top and so here I am rambling about things you don't care about, but I'm gonna say them anyway. The real world is going to shit, so it's only appropriate for the fictional one to follow :)**

**The last thing is that English isn't my first language, and there are times when I've no idea what am I doing at all. I just go with something that sounds best in my head and hope for the best so all odd-looking sentences, weird phrases, and wrong speech patterns are, well, the direct consequence of not being a natural writer, and the need to use the second language.**

**If you wanna ask anything, review, PM, and I'll answer. If not, read it and criticize it so we can move forward. Thank you.**


	8. Chapter 8

_May 1997._

The Diagon alley regained some of its color, Harry was pleased to see, and parents with children could be seen once again. It wasn't even close to the impression Harry got when he first stepped into the alley, but it was on its way there.

Once again, the alley _breathed_ magic. Children played with enchanted toys and golden snitches that teased them, wizards and witches enjoyed a walk pointing at the newly opened stores and discussing a new repertoire of goods that alley offered, and even more shops looked like they were about to open in no time at all.

All possible because of his money.

All possible because of his generosity.

All possible because he _dared._

However, as their plans proceeded forward, they started to attract attention from the ministry. Old, pureblood names of his friends managed to open many doors, and Harry used it as much as he could. Money was shifting around without anyone noticing.

The ancient goblin did a good job of hiding it.

Nonetheless, Harry's contacts warned him that ministry officials smelt the foul play, followed the shady trait, and realized something was a bit off.

Harry was sure they brought the matter to the minister and, unfortunately, Kingsley wasn't stupid and probably guessed pretty quickly what was going on, and more importantly, who was behind it.

'Pitty', Harry mused as he casually glanced to his right and noticed the same man once again. Auror, he knew, and had no doubts about it. The wizard was good, Harry had to admit; always blending with a crowd, looking interested in shops, moving like every normal man that was in the alley did.

But Harry spent a good part of his life on the run, watching behind his back. He spent hours sneaking through the halls of Hogwarts, and no one was better in it than him.

It took him few days to confirm, but as of now he was sure that he was followed and he wasn't the only one; Draco and George both reported an increase in ministry's poking their noses into their business.

Their foundation was under the very observant eyes of the ministry of magic, and Harry's time in the country was near its end and hence this meeting.

He walked into the Leaky Cauldron, politely nodded to the bartender, and shook many hands, as always. This time, however, was different. People didn't approach him only because of his fame. No, for they wanted to show their appreciation for what he did in the recent months; a lot of people were part of the secret, either borrowing his gold or receiving his help in bureaucratic matters.

George, Theo, and Neville were already there, casually drinking butterbeer. (Harry knew George's had a little bit 'extra' in it.) It was strange to see only three of them together, but Harry picked them himself to do his bidding in the future.

"Hey, guys," he said, and sat down, Tom already on his way to bring him his own drink.

"Gran warned me it's going to be like this," Neville said, amusement in his eyes. "Secrets within secrets."

Harry just waved it off as he paid for his drink.

"Never thought I'll be sitting with Weasley and Longbottom in a civil manner," Theo said casually, but Harry spent enough time with Slytherins to know what he really meant.

"Isn't it something," George said, smiling.

"Only Harry could pull it off," Neville added and Harry scoffed, casting charms that would ensure their privacy. George's eyes hardened instantly. It was time for business.

"So," Harry started. "Anything I should know about?"

"Umm, yeah, I was about to owl you yesterday, but reckoned it's better to tell you in person," Neville said, leaning forward. "Gran was in the ministry the other day and she heard something interesting."

"Oh yeah? What's Kingsley about now?" Harry asked.

"He's organizing some kind of raid, and he's trying to be secretive about it. She pulled some strings and the word is a lot of warrants s'been issued."

"Warrants?" Theo asked, frowning. "What for?"

"Umm, to raid manors and so. They noticed there is more gold going around than there should be. I guess he hopes to get his hands on some of it in the raid," Neville explained.

"Joke's on him, though. He won't find shit," George said, a cruel smile on his face. "If we're lucky Aurors might even curse themselves with some stuff that's lying around."

"What's the problem, Nev?" Harry asked Neville, noticing a hesitation in another man's eyes.

"Yeah, I was getting there. Gran sneaked a glance at the list and she swore she saw 'Black' among the names."

"What? They want to raid _my _house?"

"And I'm not judging you," he continued, "but I saw some of the books and items you got back at Grimaulds place. The whole lot of it was outlawed some time ago, and the rest is about to be forbidden next time the Wizengamot gets together."

"Shit," Theo murmured quietly, and then repeat louder. "Shit. You've any idea what I got in my library? They'll ruin me if they find out."

He stood up, already trying to leave, but Harry flicked his wand, and the boy was forced back into his seat.

"Calm the fuck down, Nott," he sneered. For the moment he felt like some else took over him, and he felt some guilt when he spotted hesitation and fear in Theo's eyes. He took a deep breath, thought for a second, and forced himself to calm down. He suddenly remembered a small disclaimer on the last book he read.

'_Dark magics are among the most powerful forces in the world, but beware, brother, for they corrupt everything they touch; body, mind and soul.'_

It was poison, unnoticeable and tasteless, Harry realized. It took you over slowly, under the pretense of a pleasure, as it worms its way into your body. Maybe he should slow down with his studies.

"Sorry, Nott," he said softly, and noticed a flash of the realization on Theo's face. He was a Slytherin. He knew. He understood the necessity.

"S'alright, Potter. I just panicked. It was foolish of me," he said, but didn't dare to look Harry in the eyes. Neville and Goerge pretended nothing was amiss so Harry decided to continue.

"Leave it to me, okay? After we're done here I'll go to your place and ward anything troublesome."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Theo simply said.

"Now, onto the reason why I've called you here," Harry said. "I'll leave Britain soon."

"What?!" George said, his eyes wide as his hand searched for his drink.

Theo managed to hide his surprise, but Harry noticed the tension in his shoulders.

Neville spilled his butterbeer, and said, "The hell. What the fuck, Harry?"

"Let me explain," he said, and raised his hand to calm them down." I'm attracting too much attention, Kingsley's out to get me and he got someone following me around. With the goblins and werewolves causing the trouble, he'll lay off you if I go away. It's the simplest solution."

The trio said nothing for a few moments, thinking about his words. Harry noticed George's eyes sharpened, and knew that his friend got it correctly.

"So you need someone to do your dirty work while you're away," he said, and chuckled. Neville's eyes narrowed at him, and Theo nodded for himself.

"Why Draco isn't here?" Nott asked.

"I promised to Narcissa," Harry simply said, and it was enough.

"What about others?" George asked. "Ain't they a part of this too?"

"He'll have them managing the business, gold and so," Neville said sternly. "He'll have them doing_ legal _stuff."

Harry nodded. No sense in denying the obvious, even if it sounded wrong.

"Why the three of us?" Neville asked, his eyes hard as steel on Harry.

"Because I know you'll do the right thing," Harry said gently, meeting his eyes. "You'll know what to do, no matter what!"

"What's our goal here?" George broke their staring contest, and Harry felt a bit relieved.

"To keep a status quo till I get back. Don't let the ministry take over, don't bow to them, and keep an eye on my friends."

Silence took over as glances were exchanged. Harry patiently waited for he knew they'll say yes at the end. They always did so for him, and Nott is too power-hungry to say otherwise even if he hid it well. Harry knew the Dark and he could see it in Theo's eyes.

"How long will you be gone?" George finally asked.

"Long," he replied shorty. They all knew that wizard's travels could last for decades. The trio exchanged uneasy looks as they thought it over.

"You might find Britain in ruins when you come back," Neville said hesitantly.

"Then I'll burn the rest of it to the ground," he hissed, as the poison from within took over him again. The coldness spread through him as his magic started pouring out; dark, chaotic, and absolute. "I'll wreck their rules and limitations. I'll erase their believes and righteousness. I'll destroy it all, and from the ashes of it, we'll build a new world. A better one."

He fixed them with his stare, one by one, and waited for them to nod. To accept his word for the truth it was. He needed them on his side because, after all, everything he did he did for them.

"I won't leave you here," he added softly. "I won't forget my friends."

(...)

Ministry was upping their ante, Harry grimly realized as his eyes went over the burnt remains of one of the shops he helped to start. The owner stood beside him, pacing nervously back and forth and murmuring nonsense to himself.

The older wizard tried to salvage as many items as he could from the alley during the war, and once it was over he decided to open kind of a pawn shop to sell it all back to the people cheaply.

He appropriately named it _Threes and dogs_ and Harry personally oversaw the paperwork and the opening of the store. He liked the idea, and now it was all gone.

"Calm down, Mr. Twinkle," he said sternly to the wizard. "I'll have a friend look it over. To see if there was a foul play involved."

"B-but, it's all gone," he said in anguish. "This will ruin me."

"No it won't," Harry simply replied. He crouched to examine a burnt book; half of it was completely missing, turned into an ash while the other half was almost untouched.

"Talk to Draco Malfoy and say I sent you. We'll have you running again in no time at all," he said, trying to calm him down.

Ordinary fire would destroy things evenly, and it would certainly turn a whole book into the crisps, Harry mused, as he looked around the interior of the shop. The part of it where goods were stored was completely black, and barely holding itself straight. Wooden beams that held the roof were too damaged. With appropriate charms and varnishes, it should've outstayed the arson.

"What kind of protections you used?" Harry asked, looking around, and noticing more inconsistencies, a theory already forming in his mind.

"Uh, the usual ones," the man answered, stumbling over the words. "Anti-theft and intruders charms, potions to preserve all the surfaces, some runes and enchantments over the case with more valuable stuff, you know."

"Anything else?" Harry asked. "What about shop-window?"

"The unbreakable charm, and some spread to keep it spotless," he answered and Harry hummed.

At that moment, a tall, redheaded wizard appeared, warmly greeting Harry and offering his hand.

"Okay there, Bill?" Harry said with a wide smile, accepting his hand. The older man looked around and whistled for himself, already taking his wand out.

"I must admit, I was surprised when I got your Patronus asking for my expertise," he casually said, returning his attention towards Harry, but not before he cast a few spells.

"Yeah, well, I owed a favor to Mr. Twinkle here, but to be honest I don't know much about diagnostic charms and detective work," Harry explained, sheepishly smiling.

"Mhm," Bill said glancing towards the owner, his eyes narrowed. Harry knew he should trust Bill, but he couldn't afford it. Not yet. Bill, however, turned his attention towards to shop once again, and decided not to pry. "So you suspect something?"

"Yeah," Harry said, letting his breath out and started pointing out the things that didn't blend with the ministry's theory while Bill nodded along and cast more charms at the burnt parts.

"Definitely foul play," he finally murmured, but Harry heard him and nodded to himself, pleased to know his hunch was correct.

"I reckoned _incendio_ couldn't do this much damage," Harry said.

"You're right. If it was used it would be like a normal fire, but a bit amplified, nothing that could touch those beams. The damage would be evenly split too, but you can see that they aimed for that room there," he pointed the room in the back, the storage. "Was the door open, Mr. Twinkle?"

"N-no. I lock them every night with enchanted lock," he said, sounding thoughtful. "I paid almost half of," he started, but abruptly stopped when Harry glared at him, and hastily added," h-half of my salary. Twenty-something galleons."

Bill frowned as he inspected the door more closely, not paying any attention to the slip Mr. Twinkle made.

"It's not here, the look," he said as all three of them started to look around for any sign of it. "It wouldn't just disappear. Those looks are made to last, and more expensive ones would even indicate to you what really happened."

"Like_ prior incantatem_?" Harry asked.

"Kinda. There are special enchantments," Bill answered shortly.

"So what you got out of this?" Harry asked, aimlessly waving his hand around himself. Bill frowned again, looked around himself again, his eyes stopping at the sight of a crisped wooden beam.

"Not Dark magic either. It would destroy everything and it would leave traces behind. All dark magic does," he started, and Harry could swear he glanced towards him as he mentioned it.

"Could be some potions, but we would see some remains behind. You can't just _scourgify _stuff like that, but something experimental might have a way around that."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Bill was omitting something, he was sure, but couldn't fathom why. It seemed like Bill didn't want to trust his own thoughts or something. Harry wasn't sure.

"Mr. Twinkle," Harry said coldly, attracting the attention of the older wizard. "If you could give a few moments to Mr. Weasley and me."

"Err, yeah, sure," he said awkwardly as he stepped back.

Harry stood silent for a few seconds, his eyes resting on the Bill's. He casually stepped forward and put a hand on Bill's shoulder. Just a whisper of threat, Harry thought, ashamed of his actions, but he needed to get to the bottom of this. He smiled widely, showing his teeth, and waited for another moment to pass.

Bill, to his credit, held his ground admirably, but Harry was much more observant now. He was tutored by Blacks, and he can and will find the tiniest weakness and exploit it as much as he can. He may hate doing so to his friends, but such were ways of the Blacks.

He will not be denied. He was bloody Harry Potter, and for once, he was in_ control._

"Why don't you tell me what you really think?" he asked softly, adding a bit more weight on Bill's shoulder, and he let it slide down as soon as Bill started talking.

"Look, Harry, err," he hesitated, but something in Harry's eyes must've urged him to go on. "It's dangerous to even think so."

"Go on," Harry said through his teeth, barely resisting the inviting song from Elder wand. It would be so much easier to curse it out of Bill. Some of it must have shown off as Bill stepped back and raised his empty hands.

"Alright, alright, but you didn't hear this from me," he said slowly and quietly. "Do you know _Aqua Eructo _charm? Well, it can't be stopped with normal fire charms. Most Dark magic don't even work against it with the exception of fiendfyre.

"I'm still waiting for the answers, Bill," Harry said forcefully, showing just a tip of his wand in his sleeve.

"Well, Aurors can stop it. There is a fire charm they teach them in the Academy and I don't know it," he started to rant.

"And you believe it's the cause of this," Harry interrupted him.

"Yeah. I've encountered it a few times before."

"Very well. Thanks for the input, Bill," Harry said, smiling honestly in a futile try to mend things between them he surely just broke, but judging by the Bill's tight lips he didn't succeed in doing so. Harry felt a stab of guilt; he just keeps burning the bridges he has with the people he cares for.

No price is too high, he reminded himself, but the guilt was still there.

"Harry?" Bill asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm a trained curse breaker. We have a good affinity for the magic, a-and, well, you reek," he hastily said, "and I know I have no right to judge you. Especially after everything you did for my family, but, mate, you're already getting too deep into the things you might not even understand."

"Bill..." Harry warned him.

"And I want you to reconsider. You'll drag Ron and others that care about you into it, and then there will be..." he suddenly stopped, and paled.

"Blood? There will be blood?" Harry guessed, and a dark chuckle escaped his throat as he turned around, ready to apparate away.

"Please, Harry," Bill tried once again and Harry stopped.

He wanted to turn around and tell the older guy everything that bothered him. He wanted to cry and to ask him for forgiveness. He wanted to ask him for advice and guidance. But he did none of it. He wasn't _that_ Harry anymore, and he chuckled again.

It was a cruel, cold chuckle and Harry barely recognized it as its own. He opened his mouth, but no words came to him. The time for words has passed.

Harry apparated away.

(...)

As soon as Harry arrived at the Grimmauld square he felt something was off. There were no muggles around, no sounds cutting through the unnatural silence of the afternoon. He stood in the center of the square, and with a well-practiced twist of his wrist he willed the Elder wand into his fist; it happily obliged.

He closed his eyes for second and tried to feel the wards around his home, but they didn't reveal much. He should've spent more time with Mrs. Black on the wards, but right now was too late for that, he mused, as he noticed the door slightly open.

It made sense. The only way someone could enter was to be let inside by Narcissa, Draco, or him. Kreacher would never let them in without checking with him first.

The portrait of Mrs. Black seemed very glad to see him as her eyes widened and she started screeching.

"My lord! Finally," she said. "Our house is being defiled by mudbloods and blood-traitors! The filth is stealing our secrets and legacy!

Harry nodded to her and rushed into the dining room, his wand at the ready.

His eyes asserted the situation in mere seconds as his blood started to boil. Kreacher was stunned in the corner of the room, his head bleeding with a prominent bump on his forehead. Narcissa was bound, silenced, and stunned, with a small cut on her shoulder. A single Auror was guarding them.

"What is the meaning of this," Harry said coldly, not even bothering to raise his wand as young Auror struggled with his own.

"M-ministry business, Mr. Potter," he said, trying to sound important as he finally leveled his wand towards Harry. He heard someone coming down the stairs too. "You'll be going with us!"

Harry swished his wand, instantly waking up both Narcissa and Kreacher as the young Auror took a step back, his expression fearful and uncertain. Kreacher instantly started wailing as another Auror entered the room in a defensive stance. This one was older, and had a cursed scar on his cheek. His eyes were hard as steel. Experienced, Harry deducted.

"Master! They caught me by surprise," Kreacher cried. "Kreacher will be punishing himself for failing his master!"

"Easy now, Potter," older Auror said at the same time, ignoring Kreacher and stepping forward. "There are three of us here, no point in resisting."

"Out," Harry whispered, his eyes furiously gleaming as he turned around and started walking towards the exit. Auror tried to curse him in his back, but he forgot about revived Kreacher.

The house-elf in the extremely well-warded house of his master was a powerful force, and Harry trusted him to know what to do so he continued carelessly, and patiently waited on the square for Kreacher to toss the Aurors out.

He could barely think in his rage as his magic cracked, begging to be released onto the unworthy.

They dared to enter _his _home.

They dared to hurt those who he considered family.

Three Aurors made a half-circle around him and Harry recognized their leader. It was a sallow-skinned, tall and thin man, with a constant sneer on his skinny face. His older brother was convicted Death-eater, Selwyn, and Harry had no idea how this scum managed to keep his job.

"You went too far this time, Potter," Selwyn said. "We'll get your hide."

Harry merely smiled, happy to have a chance to finally put his studies into the practice. Harry noticed the effect he had on them; the young Auror's hand was slightly trembling, Selwyn hesitated, and an experienced one side-stepped to get a better angle.

It was all the invitation Harry needed.

In quick succession, he released an angry barrage of spells of multiple colors; all of them fueled by his rage. All of them deadly. The Aurors instantly jumped into the action, blocking and countering his spells, side-stepping away and starting their own attack which Harry swatted away with a sharp swish of his wand, and spiraled away from a new swarm of stunners, sneering at their choice of spells.

They were weak if they believed they could bring him down with useless spells. He used to be the same, he realized, with a smirk.

"_Sectumsempra!" _he snarled, pointing his wand at the young Auror, and grinned as he felt a wave of pleasure fulfilling him when it connected with Auror's upper torso, spraying the blood all over the place.

He had no time to celebrate, however, as the remaining duo pressed their advantage. The colors of their spells were much darker now, and were filled with malice. The kids' gloves were off, he realized as he felt a sharp stab of pain in his left shoulder, followed by a crack, but Harry didn't pay much mind to it; he was used to pain.

"Your buddy is bleeding over there," he taunted. "You should hurry if you wanna save him."

Selwyn was unaffected by it, but Harry noticed another Auror's worried glance back. He was happy with every advantage available, and the enraged look of the Auror was certainly one; angry men were prone to mistakes.

His arm was uselessly dangling now and two Aurors continued to relentlessly press him, but he refused to give up as he blocked, counterattacked, and stepped back over and over again

Panic slowly started creeping its way in his head. He wasn't strong enough to take three Aurors on his own. They would toss him in Askaban like a piece of garbage. He'll die there.

_'No! I am Harry Potter. I wield a Death Stick. I will not be defeated!'_

Another curse caught him in the belly, and he staggered backward feeling the blood soaking his robes. He spilled blood that collected in his mouth and realized his rib must've been cracked. A light smile on Selwyn's lips showed him that man was confident in his victory.

He faked another stagger, drawing them in. Let 'em think they've won, he thought, as he started to prepare his spell and waited for an opening. He found it in the Black library and recognized it; Voldemort used it in a DoM.

Experienced Auror advanced slowly, carefully, but Selwyn was convicted by his stagger and relaxed as he shot binding charm towards him.

Harry shot him a bloody grin and released a terror, spell banned by ICW, considered as gruesome as the unforgivable curse. Its existence contained only in a dozen books worldwide.

A large, continuous torrent of darkness emerged from Harry's wand. It swallowed all the spells in its way and Selwyn was caught in the chest by it. The black filth dissolved everything it touched and its force shook a whole square, knocking the remaining Auror on the ground.

Harry started madly cackling and vanished his spell. He heard the young Auror gurgling in blood, slowly suffocating, he saw Selwyn's smoking remains; his whole torso was pulverized, but he didn't care. He had one more Auror to deal with and he slowly walked towards him.

He was the one in charge.

The Auror tried to grip his wand and lift himself, but Harry just stepped on his wand hand and smiled as he heard bones cracking under his weight. Auror looked at him, and Harry was delighted to see only terror and fear in his eyes.

They wanted to ruin him.

They harmed his family.

There was only one curse that would satisfy Harry's anger, and he instinctively knew he would be able to cast it. He leveled a wand with Auror's head who opened his mouth, but no words came out. Harry started to wave his wand in a well-known pattern. After all, he had it engraved on his forehead for most of his life.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

He emotionlessly observed as the life abandoned Auror's eyes and felt...nothing. Something that used to be there just vanished and Harry tried to focus on it. He searched through his memories to find some kind of explanation, and stiffened as he remembered an odd piece of information from Dumbledore.

His soul was now damaged.

A quiet sniff broke him out of his stupor and he violently turned around, the spell already at the tip of his wand, but quickly vanished it as he saw Kreacher and Narcissa watching him. Kreacher seemed to be in awe, while Narcissa was in tears, her eyes wide and unbelieving.

"Kreacher, take this trash in the house and clean the square. Call Theo Nott and George Weasley to get rid of it. Narcissa, firecall Ernie Macmillan and tell him I'm harmed. Under no condition is he to tell anyone about my wounds, understood?" he said coldly and flatly, in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

Adrenaline finally left Harry, and he felt a weakness in his knees, pain in his stomach, and a whole turmoil of emotion rampaging through his already weak mind. He felt on his knees and started spitting more blood.

At the very next moment, he fainted, his strength leaving him to the bittersweetness of the dark that embraced him.

**Note: I know that the black thing spell is a movie nonsense rather than books cannon, but it's kinda cool so why not. Aurors should be very capable wizards so I hope I powered Harry enough to present it as believable as possible.**


	9. Chapter 9

May_ 1998._

Harry woke up with a groan. He squinted his eyes in pain as the faint light of the darkened room attacked him mercilessly. His hands instinctively checked the state of his ribs and he was glad to find them healed with only slightly sore bruises remaining.

"Harry," a gentle voice startled him, "how are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" he said instead, as he recognized the blurred shape of Ernie.

"You're in your bedroom, Grimmauld's square 12, London. Do you know where that is?"

"It's my bloody home," Harry said glaring at him. "Course I know where it is."

"Good," Ernie replied, waving his wand over him, and grabbing a small vial. "I had to check though. Head problems are hardest to heal, you see, because mind seeks a way to deal with great amounts of pain, and usually that results only in fainting, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes you finish like Longbottoms," Harry finished, and nodded for himself.

"Exactly," Ernie said, his lips tightened.

"Can I get out of here?" Harry said, nervously shifting in his bed and causing more aches.

"Calm down, Harry, or I'll bind you," Ernie said, an edge of his lip slightly trembling. Harry looked him in disbelief for a second, before Ernie cracked a laugh.

"Oh, fuck off mate," Harry said. "Bloody healers."

"You're in a good state, all in all, but you should be careful with movements like this," Ernie explained, doing weird poses and Harry had no idea why would he ever do something like that. "Eat light for a few days too. I don't want any unnecessary pressure on your ribs. Hmm, you should also avoid," he trailed, sudden wariness in his eyes as he scanned over Harry again. It didn't escape Harry's notice that the warm, brown eyes never looked directly at him.

"Avoid what, Ernie?" Harry asked calmly, but with his eyes narrowed. He felt a coldness creeping up his spine, and desired nothing more but to erase judgment in Ernie's eyes. Painfully.

Some of it must have shown for Ernie stepped back and pocketed his wand, as if surrendering. As was proper, Harry thought, but shook his head violently.

_This_ has to stop!

"That," he finally said, his voice trembling, but he stood his ground with clenched fists and slightly raised chin. "The mind is a fragile thing, and you should treat it properly. Right now, yours is in chaos."

"It's not," Harry interrupted him, trying to stand up and get his wand.

"It is. You killed yesterday."

"I did so before," Harry said, feeling a rush of blood in his head.

"Not. Like. This," Ernie said equally forcefully. "Deliberately. With Dark magic. With killing curse."

Harry finally understood what he was getting at and blushed slightly, and frowned, but Ernie continued, "There's a fair reason why wounds caused by _that _kind of magic refuse to be healed. Because they are personal. The hate behind the incantation is real. The need to see your enemy injured, even dead is giving you pleasure."

Harry swallowed, and felt like there is a giant stone in his belly, but couldn't find the strength to say something. To defend his actions. Ernie's eyes, however, softened and he added, "I know what's it like. I've been there, believe me, but you cannot throw your life and sanity away for nothing."

Harry was confused now and he searched for Ernie's eyes, but he stubbornly looked elsewhere.

"I don't give a damn about those Aurors because you must've had a reason, but it's you that I, no, we are worried about. Now, get yourself together and put some clothes on. They're waiting for you."

As he grudgingly put some clothes on and went for the stairs he could hear animated chatterings coming from the dining room. Curious, he leaned his ear forward.

"...dunno what's gotten into him...it was only matter of time, I reckon...they had it coming, didn't they..."

'Joy,' Harry muttered, frozen on the stairs. They were talking about him. With a heavy breath, he continued onwards and finally entered the room. They all looked at him as one as they ceased their argument. His eyes surveyed them slowly, looking for the general impression they were having over his most recent foolishness.

Traces of badly concealed wariness behind usually stoic and cold, gray eyes of Malfoy didn't surprise Harry. Even if he showed great malice in their younger years, Harry found out that Draco's heart was never really at it. Much of his loudness was nothing more than a bark of a dog who was yet to deliver his bite.

Harry felt prickles on his neck and he knew that Ernie was somewhere behind him, watchful and silent, curious and careful, but also loyal and brave. He was indeed a pride of the house of Hufflepuff, a model member, and Harry would always respect that.

Theo was his usual self, cold and distant, in the safest corner of the room, his back laid on the wall in a casual manner, but his tiny grin betrayed him; raw hunger in his eyes only added to a bigger picture of the boy Harry still found strange and wasn't sure if he would call him his friend. However, he showed the most interest in Harry's ideas, studies, and plans for the future. His silent confidence in his own skills, an aura of mystique around him, and the fact that he managed to complete all of his tasks without a single mistake made him a valuable ally in Harry's eyes.

"I reckoned you wouldn't want Ron and Hermione around for this," George said, stopping Harry's thoughts and changing his attention towards him; he sported a cruel, little smile and had a glint of mischief in his slightly narrowed eyes.

"Bones and Pansy are in ministry," Draco said and pulled out a stack of papers. "Figuring out how much they know and keeping an eye on DMLE."

"And Longbottom is going over laws and collecting dirt on ministry. Just in case," Theo said and nodded towards the Malfoy. "Draco was just about to send him everything he's got on his father's trial. It might help."

Harry merely raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure why they did all of that, but was glad nonetheless. He did wonder what he did to deserve such good friends. It caused a strange, but warm feeling in his chest.

"Even mother got on board," Draco added, and Harry thought he didn't sound so happy about it. "Damage control at the Prophet, you know."

"Alright, thank you guys," Harry started, rubbing his temples. "It means a lot. Really."

George waved a hand impatiently, and said, "S'nothing, mate. We got your back no matter what, but we can't help but wonder about, well, you know."

"I thought we were trying to stay under the radar," Draco added and tilted his head slightly.

"Err, yeah, we were supposed so," Harry said, a bit of red creeping up his neck. He needn't them thinking he was unstable. "The circumstances changed, though, so I had to react."

"Oh," Theo said quietly. "That so? I wasn't aware of anything changed. What about you, guys?"

None of them answered, and Harry couldn't stop the forcing voice in his had that said, '_As was proper.'_

"Theo," he said instead, with an edge to his voice. Just a hint of warning, and the boy immediately changed his stance; his crossed hands dropped uselessly and he slightly bowed his head.

"He didn't mean anything by it." Harry heard Ernie's soft voice from behind. Harry suddenly cringed, and realized that he missed the most important when he observed them; they were all walking on the needles around him, closely following his every move, and he felt another sting of shame. He needed to talk with someone about it. Someone who was an expert in the field.

"Does this mean you're leaving?" Draco said. "Because this Auror business is a big deal. ICW might blacklist you if minister presents valid evidence about you being danger to - "

"You got it handled," Harry interrupted him, and stood up. "And yes, I'll be leaving as soon as I got a few things checked."

"We'll pass your goodbyes," George said grimly, and too stood up, reaching Harry with his hand.

"Wait a second, we certainly do not have it handled," Draco said loudly, and Harry sighed. He did have another trick in his leave, however, to keep them from panicking. He was even expecting it.

"I have the utmost confidence in all of my friends," he said in his most gentle tone and smiled widely. "If you cannot get it done, then I believe no one else could."

And indeed, like a magic trick, the effect was seen immediately; their chests puffed slightly, their lips widened in all sorts of smiles while Harry's one dropped into the sad one.

_'The power of the friendship and fame,'_ he thought bitterly as he disappeared away without another word.

(...)

The gates of Hogwarts were wrecked; it's massive, wooden core was unmade into the mere splinters and the feeling of safety and warmness one usually felt when encountering them was now gone.

The sounds of constructions reached Harry's ears and he curiously turned his head towards the spot where Astronomy tower used to be. He could see various wizards and witches situated around it, or hovering on the brooms and trying to put a particularly large stone into its spot. At the bottom of it, a miniature figure of professor Flitwick was furiously waving his wand in the most complex patters Harry ever saw, and small amounts of debris followed the stone trying to fill every small inaccuracy left behind.

He hummed, and made his way towards the dungeons; ghosts cheerfully greeted him, portraits pointed and yelled, and even Mrs. Norris waved her tail at him before running away, but he paid no attention to them as he knocked on the wooden door.

"Harry, m'boy," Slughorn enthusiastically greeted him. "Come in, come in."

Harry entered his office, a fake smile plastered on his face as he shook hands with the old professor. "Professor, it's a pleasure. As always," he said and pushed a small gift towards Slughorn. After all, it was the way to go if you wanted something from old Slytherin. Harry knew that he never abandoned his ways.

"Oho, what do we have here," he said and accepted the small box, but didn't proceed to open it. Instead, he put it away in a small cupboard where he had many other gifts and gadgets, and turned towards Harry with a knowing look. "Nevermind that, nevermind. You're a hard man to reach these days, you are. And yet you're here, heh."

Harry allowed himself another smile, a cold one, and sat down, deliberately slow. "I am, yes. I have a question," he said bluntly. "About the magics you know most about."

Slughorn's face immediately shifted, his smile faltered, and traces of wariness were clear as day to Harry. "Harry," he started nervously, "I never claimed to be an expert."

"And yet we both know you're aware of one of the most obscure pieces of magic in the world," Harry said quietly and tilted his head slightly to the left. "What I want to ask is nothing compared to Horcruxes."

Harry inwardly enjoyed how the old man winced at the mention of the word, and waited for a second before he continued. "Anyway, Dark magic. We both know the ministry judge it by the damage made to the victim. What I want to talk about is the damage that the caster suffers."

"Harry, my dear boy," Slughorn said quietly. "What did you do? I-I heard things, but I knew, hoped, the things about you were falsehoods made up by Prophet, as usual."

Harry instantly realized there was no fooling old man so he didn't bother to negate his claims. "I was attacked, and did what I had to to survive, as I always do, but that's not neither here nor now. The magic I used..."

"Is destructive, volatile, dangerous?" Slughorn nodded along. "But the victim doesn't matter. There are plenty of ways to dispose of your enemy, amongst which most are safe to use and practice, but some are rendered dangerous for a specific reason, all of which are dark by nature. When we talk about Dark arts, we talk about the damage caster inflicts upon his very soul. In the book you obviously read, the adjectives describing the nature of spells are nothing else but warnings. Warnings about the greatest choice of them all."

"Being?" Harry raised an eyebrow and crossed his hands. Slughorn sighed and went for the nice-looking bottle on his table, some sort of mead, Harry guessed and waited, his leg rhythmically tapping, as professor proceeded to pour himself a generous dose of goldish liquid.

"Are you happy?" he asked instead, and caught Harry off his guard. He gaped like fish for a second before he tried to formulate an answer, but his voice failed him.

"I... What?" Why does it matter?" he finally managed to spit.

"Everything, Harry," he whispered, and asked again. "Are you happy?"

"I... don't know," Harry said softly. He asked himself many things over the past few months but never that one. His every action, as long as he was concerned, was for the benefit of everyone. He did it to protect their world, their values, but right now he could tell that something was missing. He reached for Elder wand instinctively, and muttered: "_Expecto Patronum."_

They both watched rare, whitish mist struggling in the air to become something more, but it was not to be, and with a last surge of weakish power, it disappeared.

"Oh, but I think you do, Harry, my boy," Slughorn whispered, his eyes glassy, full of the emotions Harry could not decipher. Majestic stag that saved Harry life dozens of times did not come forward. It didn't ponce around in its pride. It did not answer its master call.

"It's the only question that matters at the end of the day," Slughorn continued. "Money, power, it is all for nothing if you have no one to share it with. Believe this old man who was there, and did the very same mistake. Believe the man that helped to create Voldemort."

"But the dark arts," Harry tried again, but Slughorn shook his head and interrupted him.

"Are rarely the cause, Harry, but rather the consequence. To wield such power, means to give up on your very essence, the soul itself. Sometimes we are forced to use such a force, if only to protect yourself, but it's the wrongness of such a choice that slowly destroys you and leads to the madness of those lost in the darkest arts.

"You mentioned the choice twice now, professor," Harry said softly, but his impatience could be felt in the room as it darkened. His voice carried power, it radiated his dominance. It revealed his words as an order, a command. "What is it?"

It caused Slughorn to seem even sadder, but he responded, "Why, the choice between your life and your soul. Like a muggle soldier going to the war knowing he will end up in hell for his actions. It is the sacrifice of the highest possible order, and it cannot be undone."

"But I had no choice," Harry said, his voice slightly rising.

"Didn't Albus teach you anything? There is always a choice, and most often than not, it is one between what is right and what is easy."

They shared the silence for a few moments as Harry thought it over. The professor and the student. Both scarred, both with many mistakes behind them, but both still pushing onwards. It is all that matters, Harry decided, he just needed to go on, and use those kinds of magic only in a dire need, the life or death situation.

His musings were interrupted when he noticed Slughorn stiffening, and reaching a pose as if he heard something menacing in the distance. He frowned and took his own wand out, and cast spell Harry did not recognize.

"They are here," he said suddenly. "Half a dozen of them at least." Harry immediately jumped onto his feet, his wand out, his head whispering him spells to decimate his opponents, dark magic engulfing his sense and he barely noticed Slughorn shaking him.

"Harry. You have to go away. Far away. I believe you are familiar with the one-eyed witch on the third floor. I'll stall them as long as I can," he said. Harry looked at the door, and then back to Slughorn. Old man obviously realized his hesitation and yelled, "Go!"

(...)

In the diversion of his life, Harry found himself in the ministry, rushing towards the office that issued international portkeys. At least one person noticed him, he knew, as the familiar sound of the alarm reached his ears and floos started to close, one at the time.

Two brave hit wizards were guarding the elevator with determined faces and stiff grips on their wands, but Harry merely smiled at the duo who had to be Gryffindors. With most Aurors being in Hogwarts, there was little staff capable of dealing with Harry left behind and he knew it.

Without slowing down, he aggressively made a wide arc with the Elder wand and the fast, strong blow of the wind sent hit wizards flying away from the elevator. Harry winced when he saw one of them hitting the wall so hard that it cracked with a loud bang. Wizard's own back was not to survive that crash, Harry's mind told him, but he couldn't afford to think about it. Not now.

More spells flew at his back and Harry, without looking behind, summoned a large, golden dome that absorbed them all. He couldn't help but sneer at their weak spells. One real spell would be enough to shatter it with a deep dong, and he did expect it, having another shield at the ready, but apparently ministry officials were even worse than he thought them to be.

Still, he hated this whole scenario where he had to hurt people, maim and kill. He despised going against Kingsley and man's ministry. He dreaded destabilizing already fragile society, but something had to be done. If they wanted to go forward as a nation they all had to hurt like Harry himself had hurt. They needed to bleed and fight with everything they have to realize how much they had and to figure it was worth fighting for. If they wanted to be in peace and prosperity, they had to survive the war. It was really simple in Harry's mind, but it was the process of it that was complicated.

With these thoughts, despite the feel of vomit he felt in the bottom of his throat, he sent the most powerful explosive spell he knew as the door of the elevator closed and couldn't escape the feeling of pleasure that fulfilled him as it connected; the explosion was monstrous as the debris flew everywhere, cutting through people like a knife through the hot butter, maiming old and young. With a single spell, powered with the most righteous feeling he could muster, he turned the atrium into the remains such as of gruesome battlefield.

It was all tactics, really, for Kingsley could not afford to appear weak, and if he did oust Harry as a criminal, well, a whole nation would go to hell, to say at least. Just like in the old days, the truth will be concealed and the minister will exercise his power over those who wish for truth to be told to the public. However grim the situation was, Harry couldn't help but to think it as a win-win situation.

With a determined step and a gentle flick of his wrist, Harry blew up the door of the office that issued international portkeys only to be met with a wand pointed in him.

"Pucey," he greeted softly, masking his surprise. "As an office clerk?"

"Easy now, Potter," he said, gripping his wand so strongly his chuckles went white. Slight tremor of his hand didn't escape Harry's eyes so he let his wand hand down and tilted his head slightly.

"Put it down, will you? We have business to do."

"Ministry don't do business with criminals," Pucey said, but his voice betrayed him. It was a comical line.

Harry chuckled and said, "It doesn't, does it? Well, then you'll be happy to know that I am not one."

"Minister said," Pucey tried again, but Harry interrupted him.

"What is criminal, though, is you working here. It's not like we ever hang out or something, but I do remember that you were the best chaser Slytherin had to offer, and quite some marks to show for," he mused and when he noticed the surprised look on his face he continued, "Hermione keeps track of that kind of staff, Merlin knows why though."

"It isn't like that," Pucey said, and his eyes flicked to the left; the noise was slowly but surely coming closer. Slytherin knew that time was his advantage, Harry could see it.

"Okay, I'll tell you how this will go. Nice and simple. We have around five minutes before every minister official that can hold wand on the right side of it barge in with an intent to capture me, dead or alive so let me use them wisely. It was supposed to get better when I killed Voldemort, but it didn't. This country was supposed to become great once again, but it didn't. So I, once again, will make it all right, as it was supposed to be, but right now I have no means to do so which means you will give me portkey to France so I can prepare in safety, far away from here. When you do so, I'll keep it in mind when I come back. I will remember Adrian Pucey helped me when I was in need so in return I'll help him and his family. His little sister won't have to go through the same shit we did. She'll know only peace and happiness. She'll be pioneer of the world that was promised to me when I was eleven."

"It isn't that simple," Pucey tried again. "They'll have my head if I let you go."

"I'll make it believable," Harry said. "We can help you."

"We?"

"Even from the continent, I can help you. I have friends in the right places. Just visit your old dormmate, Theo Nott, and show him this memory. He'll know what to do. Let me go, and you'll be rewarded."

"You-know-who also said that," Pucey said.

Harry just smiled, coldly and widely, "But he lost, didn't he? And I don't intend to."

"But - "

"No more buts!" Harry said forcefully and raised his wand. "It's time to choose. Do you want to build future with me or to be stuck in the past? Choose."

Pucey hesitated, but not for long. It was his Slytherin nature; they hated power and adored it, they could recognize it and their every instinct screamed to yield to it and reap the rewards afterward so it wasn't surprising to Harry when the older boy silently offered him an old pocket watch.

"It will leave in fifteen seconds," he said.

"Thank you Pucey," Harry said and bowed slightly, "And sorry about this."

He leveled his wand with Pucey's chest and focused on all the hate in himself, he collected every single ounce of it, and softly uttered, "_Crucio._"

Harry watched as he twitched on the floor, screamed and pleaded, cried and suffered. It lasted only a few seconds, but for Harry, it seemed like an eternity. It was indeed the worst of the unforgivable curses, and not because of its effect, but for it demanded unnatural state of mind of a caster. It demanded he become a sadistic animal, a torturer, a man who enjoyed the pain of others, and Harry hated it. He hated every second of it, as it sent a wave after wave of pleasure into his mind. He hated that he loved it.

And then, fifteen seconds has passed, and just like it, he vanished.

**Note: Sorry for the long delay, but I've been focusing on other stuff and frankly, I've no idea where am I going with this fic so it took me a while to come up with something that will kinda usher my fic forward. I read it all once again and notice more than a few inconsistencies, and I've no idea what to do with them. Also, I kind of forget about Ron and Hermione simply because I don't like writing about them, but we'll say that they gradually drifted apart. Enjoy the chapter if you can, and if not, well there is a million of fanfictions out there just waiting for you.**


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